


It Sounds Uncommon Nonsense

by sumokoala (travelinthedark), travelinthedark



Category: Criminal Minds, Psych
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-16
Updated: 2011-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-15 17:32:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/travelinthedark/pseuds/sumokoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/travelinthedark/pseuds/travelinthedark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The BAU is called out to Santa Barbara on a case where Spencer Reid meets Shawn Spencer. Shawn helps put some things in perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _This was the first thing I'd written in *years,* and even though it's got some major flaws I'm still pretty proud of it. So my apologies in advance for any comma misuse/abuse._

Gideon has been a father figure to Spencer, and though it's new for him to have a strong male role model, Spencer appreciates the fact that he’s there. When he leaves, Spencer spends the first few days feeling confused and angry, projecting the same feelings he’d had towards his father onto Gideon.

Hotch has always been this brilliant profiler that Spencer looks up to, more reliable than Gideon in many ways, a second support in Spencer’s life. And at the same time that Gideon is running away, Hotch is wavering and Spencer doesn’t know how to make it all add up.

He’s finally found a place where he feels comfortable. He has people to look up to, has friends who don’t find it strange when he provides them with the history of grain-alcohol when they’re at the bar, has a life that feels normal. And then it seems to be falling apart so suddenly that Spencer is thrown, feeling like he’s ten again, with no way to stop the unraveling of the world around him.

When Hotch comes back, more tense than ever, Spencer realizes that he doesn’t simply dislike Haley, he resents her, selfishly, for the way she’s thrown Hotch’s life into chaos with her manipulative behavior. And even more, he almost hates her for the way she makes Hotch feel, the way Hotch's shoulders slump when he speaks to her on the phone, the way his expression falls when she gives him an ultimatum. Hotch is part of what gives stability to Spencer’s world, and it hurts to see him so helpless.

After a while, the mention of Gideon no longer makes his chest tighten. Rossi comes in, as experienced as Gideon but absolutely nothing like him. Spencer doesn’t feel the same connection between himself and Rossi as he had felt with Gideon, but he respects Rossi all the same.

As Hotch’s marriage falls apart, as he goes through divorce proceedings, Spencer realizes that when either of them find balance again it will be completely different.

...

Hotch remains a part of Spencer’s life that makes him feel like he's okay, like he’s normal. His team accepts him for who he is, and he loves that feeling. But even as he’s becoming more confident, more independent, he sees Hotch drawing back into himself.

He wants to help Hotch, wants to keep Hotch from pulling so far away that he'll be completely inaccessible, or end up being a detriment to the team. He looks at Hotch and he sees this amazing person who is so devoted to the team, so completely selfless that, even if he doesn’t realize it, he's given part of himself up and lost the chance for him to be truly happy with a white-picket fence American Dream.

Spencer wants Hotch to realize that the team appreciates him; that Spencer appreciates him. So Spencer does the one thing he knows he’s good at, and he just listens. Whenever Hotch needs a sounding board, Spencer is there, and the more Hotch tells him, the more Spencer respects him.

After a while, he realizes that part of that respect is attraction, and he knows that it’s inappropriate. He pushes it down, doesn’t acknowledge it except for a few stray glances once in a while. Hotch is a straight man who is newly divorced, and that line of thinking isn’t going to get him anywhere.

It doesn’t matter what he wants, Spencer thinks, so long as he’s helping Hotch. So, he listens any time that Hotch needs to talk, and every so often he offers to do physics magic, because that always seems to make Hotch laugh.

…

Spencer leans against the edge of Morgan’s desk, letting Morgan regale him with the story of his latest date. “Her hips, Reid. She’s a salsa dancer, you know? And the way she moves,” Morgan makes some sort of noise.

“You know, salsa dancing is actually a combination of French and African movement, though most people attribute it’s origin to Cuba. It’s…” He stops when he sees the look Morgan is giving him. “Her hips, right,” Spencer says.

Morgan smiles and continues giving details of club they went to, and Spencer lets his mind drift idly. When Hotch walks out of Rossi’s office, Spencer smiles a little and Morgan stops speaking.

Spencer snaps back to attention at the silence, schooling his features while he turns to prompt Morgan to continue.

Morgan is watching him, a confused smile on his face.

“What?” Spencer asks.

Morgan shakes his head, “Nothing, you just zoned out on me there.”

Spencer forces a laugh, “I haven’t had enough caffeine yet.”

Morgan, thankfully, lets it go. “You mean you haven’t had enough sugar, yet. The way you make it, it can barely pass as coffee.”

Spencer smiles. “The way I make it, it’s delicious.”

…

It isn’t uncommon for Hotch and himself to be the last people in the office at night. Spencer knows that Hotch buries himself in work in order to avoid going home to an empty house, and Spencer knows firsthand the feeling of walking into something that is supposed to be a home and feeling more alone than ever.

Over time it becomes normal for them to order late-night take out, for Spencer to curl up in one of the chairs in Hotch’s office, flipping through files and drumming his fingers lightly against his thigh. Sometimes they take a break and find themselves discussing whatever else comes to mind, things that aren’t case related.

Spencer learns that Hotch tivo's reruns of the West Wing, and that he can see bits of himself in the lawyers running the White House. Spencer questions him on that, citing the sarcastic, easy banter between the characters, and Hotch’s response makes his chest tighten, slightly. “Maybe if all I knew was politics, that’s how I would be,” he says, “but after doing this…” Hotch trails off.

Spencer clears his throat awkwardly and says, “I see you more as the Secret Service type, anyhow.” The corner of Hotch’s mouth lifts in an almost smile, and they move on to a debate over classical music. Spencer loves Hotch’s smile, loves when it’s directed at him, and he wishes he knew what to do to coax it out of Hotch more often.

It’s on one of these nights that Spencer first calls Hotch 'Aaron'. Nine-thirty pm, and with Styrofoam boxes of Thai food spread across Hotch’s desk, Spencer is flipping through old case files listlessly. Hotch calls Haley as usual; saying goodnight to his son is something he tries to do every night he possibly can. Spencer doesn’t think anything of it, and Hotch is comfortable enough with him that Spencer has been there to hear it several times.

Except this time Spencer hears the faint click of the someone answering, and Hotch’s face freezes. Spencer lowers the file, watching as Hotch closes his eyes for a moment before he speaks. “This is Aaron Hotchner, is Haley there?”

Spencer realizes that someone else has answered the phone, and that, based on Hotch’s reaction, that someone is male. Spencer bites his lip, wondering if he should leave. Before he has a chance to decide, Hotch is speaking again, his words choked off, “No, just tell her I called when she’s finished. Is Jack awake? Oh. No, it’s okay, don’t wake him. Just, tell Haley I called, please. Thanks.”

Hotch looks shaken as he sets the receiver down, and Spencer knows he’s staring openly.

“Hotch,” he says, “everything okay?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Hotch says, shoulders straightening and voice tight. He’s staring intently at the page in front of him, and Spencer knows it’s just a request for a long weekend from Garcia.  
After Hotch doesn’t move or say anything for another minute Spencer leans forward in his chair.

“Hotch,” he says, and when Hotch doesn’t respond, he lets his voice soften. “Aaron,” he says, and  
Hotch finally looks up at him. “Aaron,” he says again, “are you okay?”

Hotch’s expression is a cross between anger and shame, and he nods once sharply without answering. Spencer hesitates before he speaks, “I’m sorry. I, uh, I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, but… Jack’s really lucky to have you for a father.”

Hotch’s eyes soften, something unreadable in them, and Spencer ducks his head back down and tries to focus on the file in front of him. He doesn’t say anything more, and Hotch doesn’t ask him to leave.

…

Rossi says something one day that seems to be completely random to Spencer, but Spencer always listens to what Rossi says with the same intensity with which he had listened to Gideon.

“It’s hard to profile a profiler,” Rossi says.

“We don’t profile each other, we promised not to,” Spencer says in return.

Rossi smirks. “Has that stopped you from doing it?”

Spencer feels a little ashamed, knowing he’s unconsciously been doing it to everyone for years now. “I never do it intentionally,” is what he says to Rossi.

“None of us do, kid. We do it instinctively, and in the same vein we try and protect ourselves from it instinctively.”

Spencer must look openly confused, because Rossi laughs quietly.

“But some of us protect ourselves,” Rossi says, “and some of us just hide.” Rossi is looking out over the bullpen, where Hotch is talking to Prentiss about something, presumably related to the file in his hands.

Spencer still doesn’t really understand. “I’m sorry, what?”

Rossi glances over at him and smiles softly. “You’ll get it one day,” he says, and then he walks back into his office.

Spencer is still confused, but he does like the familiarity of his teammates and the movement and background noise that constitute the BAU bullpen. He leans against the railing, just watching everyone for a few more minutes before he heads down to his desk.

He doesn’t know what Rossi meant, but he believes Rossi when he says that he’ll figure it out.

…

Hotch walks down to the bullpen, coming to a stop in front of Spencer’s desk.

“Hey,” Spencer says, “how’d it go with Jack?”

“I took him to the planetarium.”

“Did he like it?”

Hotch smirks “He did. In fact he was so enthusiastic about it that we almost got kicked out.”

Spencer smiles, “Children find everything in nothing whereas men find nothing in everything.”

Hotch mock glares. “I’m sure I would have found more in it if I hadn’t been wrangling a toddler the whole time.”

Spencer smiles, “Hey, I’m not criticizing you, Giacomo Leopardi is.”

“He should spend an afternoon with Jack.”

Spencer’s voice softens. “I told you he’d love it,” he says.

“You were right.”

When Hotch walks away, Spencer realizes that everyone is staring at him. He ducks his head and lets his hair fall over his face, going back to the old case files he’s been reviewing.

…

Spencer notices that the closer Hotch lets him get, the more Spencer sees the little ticks that Hotch has, like twirling a pen absently when he’s studying something, biting his bottom lip when he’s putting something together, tilting his head to the right when he’s incorporating something new to the profile. What Spencer likes about this is that he’s seeing the things when Hotch isn’t being SSA Hotchner, like when he rubs his hand over the back of his neck, or loosens his tie and arches his neck.

Every time he sees something new in Hotch, he wants to see more. He wants to see everything

…

J.J. calls them into the conference room on a Monday, pulling up pictures of the bodies of three young women, each of which is covered in dozens of tiny cuts and has been strangled. Each girl had been found five days after the last. She starts briefing them on the case, the Santa Barbara police requesting their presence after the department’s own detectives hadn’t been able to make much headway.

Rossi’s been gone a few days, attending his niece’s wedding, but the rest of the team is paying close attention to J.J. Spencer zones out, watching the way Hotch’s fingers slowly turn the pen in his hand. Hotch has great hands, he thinks, and he half-listens to J.J. for the rest of the briefing, not really paying attention until he hears Hotch’s voice saying, “Wheels up in twenty.”

He glances up and Spencer thinks that no one has noticed his distraction, but as they’re heading out of the room Hotch smiles and twirls the pen again, slowly and deliberately. Spencer is right behind him, and he must make some sort of noise because Hotch laughs without turning around.

Spencer ducks his head as he makes his way to his desk.

…

One thing Spencer had never expected to encounter in his life was an overzealous, overly sarcastic ‘psychic detective’ everyone referred to as… Spencer. His name, as it turns out, is actually Shawn, but as far as Reid can tell there’s no rhyme or reason as to who calls him Shawn and who calls him Spencer. The one exception is the head detective for the SBPD, a high strung man who tenses every time Shawn starts to move, and who sends heated glares across the room when Shawn even opens his mouth to speak.

Hotch is obviously not pleased by Shawn’s presence, but Shawn has an almost perfect record as far convictions go, and the SBPD’s chief likes to keep him around. When Chief Vick explains this, with a vague gesture to the thirty year old man sort-of wiggling and pressing his fingers to his temples in what seems to be an effort to ease the pain of a smoothie-induced brain freeze, Spencer can easily read the skepticism on the faces of his teammates.

“You’ll have to excuse Mr. Spencer’s… antics, gentlemen,” Chief Vick says, but before she can continue, Shawn cuts her off.

“My brain is literally trying to jump out of my skull, Chief. This is a very serious matter. If this were an antic, you’d know it,” Shawn says.

Chief Vick rolls her eyes before continuing on as though Shawn hadn’t even spoken, “but though he may be… unconventional at times, he’s proven himself to be an asset to our department.” Spencer notices the way that Lassiter’s mouth twitches at the statement, the way his eyes darken for a moment. “And this is Mr. Guster,” Chief Vick continues, gesturing to the African American man standing protectively close to Detective O’Hara, “Mr. Spencer’s associate. They’ll be around the station from time to time, but please feel free to ignore them-“

“Impossible, Chief! Have you seen Gus’ rendition of Hey Mickey? Neither man nor woman can resist, let alone ignore,” Shawn cuts in.

Vick continues as though she hadn’t been interrupted. “And try not to encourage them,” she says, glancing back towards the agents.

Shawn is still talking about Gus' dance moves, apparently not listening to the chief at all. “He does this thing with his hips, all swively and in time with the clapping and the—you’ve seen it, Jules, back me up. It’s amazing!” Shawn continues on as though he’d never been interrupted. O’Hara flushes and looks down, and Spencer is amazed at the dynamics within the group. Never before has he seen an officer speak to a chief like this, let alone a civilian, and here Chief Vick is letting Shawn continue on with something like a smirk on her face.

O’Hara chokes an embarrassed cough out, and Gus moves to place his hand on her back. Lassiter growls, “Spencer,” in an authoritative tone that makes Reid jump and Shawn shut up. Reid notices that Shawn and Lassiter have a silent argument, both of them glaring slightly and Lassiter’s mouth twitching again, before Shawn’s shoulders slump and he goes quiet.

Vick glances at Spencer before she continues, “As I was saying, feel free to ignore Mr. Spencer, and know that we’re more than willing to assist you with anything you may need in this investigation.” She pauses for a moment before looking at Hotch. “We really appreciate you helping us out here.”

Spencer doesn’t miss the way Lassiter stiffens slightly, how his eyes reflexively glance down. Lassiter obviously isn’t as accepting of their help as Vick is, then, but that’s not unexpected. Most of the cases they work they find themselves on tenuous grounds with the local PD.

J.J. is standing just behind him, and Spencer surveys the room, glances away from Lassiter and over to Gus, noting the way his hand has settled easily on the small of OHara’s back. He lets his gaze slide across Prentiss and Morgan, standing in the corner and trying to appear as neutral as possible. Between them and Chief Vick stands Hotch, his posture perfect, as always, and neither his expression nor the tone of his voice belying any of the exasperation Spencer knows he’s feeling.

He lets his eyes rest on the slant of skin exposed just above the collar of Hotch’s throat, tuning out Hotch’s overview of the BAU’s plan for a moment while he thinks. He’s been having moments like these more and more often recently; on the plane ride out Hotch had his suit-jacket off and his sleeves rolled up and Spencer had stopped paying attention to his book of classic historical speeches to watch that smooth area of skin just underneath Hotch’s wrist. His mind flashed rapid images of all the ways that he could make the small spot a part of intimacy between himself and Hotch, but the simplest still stands out the most: taking Hotch’s hand and kissing the spot just beneath his pulse point, lightly.

He flushes lightly and forces his attention back to the briefing, eyes flicking to Shawn quickly and noticing the way Shawn’s gaze glances away the moment Spencer meets it with his own.

…

The first hour working in the SBPD station starts the same as working with any other local police department. They’re going over the case files again, talking to the cops who initially worked the scenes, and Spencer is tacking up a map of the greater Santa Barbara area when Shawn’s voice cuts through the relative quiet.

“…Jules, come on. If you just let me in you’ll save me the hassle of finding an unethical and possibly illegal way of doing it behind your back. And if I do that then Gus will be mad at me for making you mad and then I’ll be mad at you for telling Gus, and Lassi will just be mad at everyone and this will all end with a defenseless hotdog vendor being shot in the knee.” Shawn is whining, and Spencer sees him stop in front of the doorway, O’Hara just out of view. Spencer wonders how a thirty something man in flip-flops and a bright pink polo shirt is allowed to roam free in the station.

O’Hara sighs. “At this point I’m just going to assume you’re going to try and do it anyway.”

“So, does that mean you’ll be more likely or less likely to be angry if I succeed?”

“It’s illegal, Shawn.”

“That term is really just a formality, it hardly even means anything anymore; I mean really it’s more like questionably legal. You can’t doubt science, Jules.”

“First, that made absolutely no sense, and second, illegal means illegal.”

“Well, agree to disagree.” There’s a pause. “Have I told you today how much you remind me of a fuzzy little kitten playing with a ball of yarn?”

“What?”

“You know, when the yarn gets wrapped all around it, with its little paws all tangled up and its adorable little meow.”

“What does a kitten have to do with anything?”

“Well, if you’ll recall, I once gave McNab a kitten.”

“Shawn.”

“I suppose, technically speaking, that this has nothing to do with kittens.”

“I’m leaving, Shawn. If I see you go near the records room I will arrest you.”

“I’ll be like a ghost, Jules. All eerie and wispy like, probably haunting Lassiter, maybe joining up with Patrick Swayze to joint-haunt Demi Moore. How awesome would that be?”

“Bye, Shawn.”

“Okay Jules, see you later! I’m definitely not going to break into the records room!” Shawn calls loudly at O’Hara’s retreating form. Everyone on the BAU team is openly staring at Shawn, who is still watching as O'Hara walks away. Shawn nods his head a few times, rocking back on his heels, before he turns and notices the room full of people watching him.

“I bet P. Sways and I could get Demi to make something way cooler than a pot. A sundial, maybe. Possibly a clay monkey,” he says before walking away.

Spencer doesn’t know, but if he had to guess he would say that Shawn is heading directly for the records room. Spencer glances at Morgan, who is smiling, and then at Hotch, who is not. He can practically hear the indignant monologue running through Hotch’s head, questioning why no one is going after Shawn or trying to stop a crime that Shawn had basically confessed he was about to commit.

J.J. clears her throat and they all turn back to the case at hand. Spencer’s mind drifts to the nonsense of Shawn’s words, and then to the way Hotch had probably perceived them. He likes the way Hotch tries to hide his disapproval but always lets the hint of a frown show through. It makes Spencer want to kiss it away.

…

The next time Spencer sees Shawn he’s on his way to the bathroom. Shawn kicks a leg out in front of him, effectively blocking his path.

“So I hear you’re some kind of genius,” Shawn says, perching on the edge of a desk— Lassiter’s, Spencer thinks-- and swings his legs out in a manner reminiscent of a small child whose feet don’t quite reach the ground.

“I, uh. Yes,” Spencer replies. Shawn has asked the question with the perfect air of innocence, his head tipped slightly to the side, his eyebrows slightly raised. He seems to be completely comfortable, but there’s something calculating in his gaze that throws Spencer slightly off. “I have an IQ of 187,” he says. He’s learned to cut his answer off around there, as it usually makes people uncomfortable when he recites his achievements.

Shawn, however, waits a beat before he prompts him, “And?”

“And I have an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words a minute,” Spencer says. Shawn still seems perfectly comfortable, but Spencer can see him processing the information.

“An eidetic memory, huh?”

“People usually refer to it as photographic memory, though that isn’t technically accurate as it can often include the ability to recall sounds as well as images with extreme accuracy. But, yes.” Shawn just nods easily while Spencer speaks, smiling softly. Spencer shifts uncomfortably, realizing that Shawn already knows this about him, that he probably knows about his education as well. Spencer has the distinct feeling that Shawn is reading him, and he coughs lightly.

Shawn grins widely and hops off the desk. “Well, then. Want a smoothie?” he asks. Spencer shakes his head ‘no,’ trying to figure out what just happened. Shawn clasps Spencer’s shoulder as he walks away.

He hears Shawn behind him, “McNabb, my man, how ‘bout a delicious fruit smoothie to brighten your morning? Gus’ treat!”

…

Spencer stares at the map in front of him, his eyes scanning the routes between abduction sites and dump sites, his mind reciting statistics while he tries to make sense of the incongruous information it’s being presented. Two victims abducted within a mile of one another; the first body was found five miles northwest of the abduction site, the second nine miles northwest, both off of Route 154.

He hears someone move to stand behind him on his left side. “How’s it coming?” Hotch asks softly.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Spencer says. He knows a note of frustration comes through in his voice.

Hotch moves a little closer and Spencer swallows thickly, imagining what it would feel like if Hotch closed the distance and his body was pressed against Spencer’s own.

Hotch is silent for a moment while he studies the map before he reaches up and clasps Spencer’s shoulder. “You’ll figure it out,” he says, before moving away to look over the photos of the victims with Morgan.

Spencer remains in front of the board, slightly tense and unable to focus.

…

The profile suggests that they’re looking for an adult male, probably in his late twenties. He’s probably socially awkward, but people will just assume he’s shy. He cuts the victims along their abdomen and chest, but then leaves time for each cut to heal before inflicting a new wound. He wants the victims to feel the pain, rather than allow endorphins to help dull it.

The women all bear physical resemblance to one another, suggesting the aggression he’s showing is directed at a woman from his past, but based on the ages of the women it’s probably not his mother.  
Spencer listens as Prentiss gives the local detectives the overview, trying to create a mental picture of their unsub as she speaks.

…

That afternoon another body is found. Hotch and Prentiss head to the scene, leaving J.J. and Morgan to start incorporating the new development into their profile and Spencer to try and make sense of the geographic profile.

When Hotch and Prentiss get back, they tack the pictures of the body and dumpsite to the board.  
The identity of the latest victim is still unknown, even though Garcia has been running her description through missing person reports from all of Southern California for the past few hours, when the team is ready to give their updated profile.

Hotch has called all the officers into the room so they can revise their profile of the unsub, and he’s a little surprised when Shawn accompanies O’Hara into the room. Shawn stops a few feet away him, close enough to see the picture of the victim clipped to the board.

Shawn and O’Hara are arguing about something; it sounds like the best flavor of ice cream to use for a root-beer float. While she starts arguing the finer points of vanilla, Spencer notices Shawn glances at the picture, the way his gaze narrows quickly, no more than three seconds, and then relaxes as he turns back to his argument. He cuts O’Hara off mid-sentence with, “Mint chocolate chip, Jules. That’s all I’m saying.”

Morgan and Prentiss begin their explanation of what the discovery of the new victim means to their profile, the ways that it helps them further describe their unsub, to the gathered officers. They’re about a minute into it when suddenly Shawn makes a loud gurgling sound and clutches his head.

Spencer glances at Hotch and sees his eyebrows raised, obviously surprised. Shawn lurches forward, placing his hand on J.J.’s shoulder to steady himself before he starts convulsing, still making the noise, his eyes closed and the hand not braced against J.J. pressed against his temple. The BAU team all look stunned, but Spencer notices that the members of the SBPD don’t look surprised, merely anticipatory.

The gurgling noise abruptly stops and Shawn starts speaking. “I feel an earthquake, the ground is moving and I can’t control it and- no, no wait, the earthquake is over.” The room is silent for a moment and then Shawn starts again, “This isn’t the earthquake. The earthquake is over but my head is pounding and- and the ground is shaking again. It’s-it’s-“ he stops as though searching for a word, but it’s Gus who speaks next.

“An aftershock?” He guesses.

Shawn snaps his fingers and points at her, his eyes opening. “That’s it! Aftershocks!”

Spencer frowns, completely confused. From the reactions of the officers around him he gathers this type of display is a fairly common occurrence.

“What about them?” Lassiter snaps.

“Not them, it,” Shawn says, his hand dropping from his head and his face scrunching briefly.

After a moment of silence O’Hara’s face lights up and she speaks excitedly, “There’s a club called Aftershocks! Down on fifteenth! Could that be it?”

Shawn nods and shrugs slightly, “I guess, that’s all the spirits told me.”

“We’ll go check it out,” O’Hara starts to say before she realizes the BAU team is there. She stops, glancing over at Hotch who still looks stunned. After a moment he schools his expression into one of interest, but his gaze doesn’t move away from Shawn.

“What was that?” Hotch asks, and he knows everyone on his team is wondering the same thing.

“A psychic vision,” Shawn states simply.

“And how often do these ‘visions’ occur?” Hotch’s voice is neutral.

“As often as the spirits see fit to communicate with me.” Shawn’s voice is completely calm, as though it’s perfectly normal to have been convulsing violently a minute earlier.

Hotch looks over at Chief Vick, who is standing at the back of the crowd. “And they’re usually helpful?”

“More often than not,” Chief Vick says, shrugging.

Hotch looks thoughtful for a moment before he nods slowly, turning his attention back to O’Hara. “Then I suppose it can’t hurt to look into it. Morgan, Prentiss, accompany Detectives O’Hara and Lassiter, will you?”

Prentiss clears her throat and nods. “Of course.”

Everyone begins moving again as O’Hara, Lassiter, Morgan and Prentiss leave the room. He sees Gus cross the room to stand next to Shawn, lean in and say something quietly to his friend. Shawn says something back, voice low enough that no one can hear him, but Spencer sees what appears to be ‘I’ll tell you later.’ Gus nods, and Shawn turns his attention back to the case.

…

Spencer and Hotch sit side by side at the table, spreading the crime scene photos in chronological order and trying to make note of all the similarities between the victims. Spencer’s eyes flash across the bruising around their necks, the small lacerations that have begun to heal, the way their bodies are arranged.

Hotch checks his cell phone for what must be the seventh time that evening, and Spencer looks over when he sighs. “Hey,” Spencer says, quietly. The ‘what’s up’ is implied, leaving room for Hotch to avoid it. He’s actually a little surprised when Hotch turns to him, his expression open.

“Jack’s preschool presented their play, today. I was supposed to be there.”

Spencer doesn’t know what to say, so he makes a sympathetic noise, allowing Hotch the option of continuing.

“Haley’s recording it so I can have a copy of it later. She was supposed to call me before it started.” Hotch seems to hold his breath for a few seconds before he says, quietly, “I hate thinking that there’s some man out there doing all these father-son things with him. that he might be a better father to Jack than I am.”

Spencer doesn’t know what to say; to be honest he’s completely dumbstruck at Hotch’s words. Hotch tries to keep his home life private, though he does let his pride at Jack’s accomplishments show. Spencer thinks back to when he told Garcia that everyone tells him their secrets because they know he has no one to reveal them to.

He wonders if that has something to do with Hotch’s openness, or if it has to do with the fact that they’ve been spending more time around each other lately. He clears his throat before he says, “No one could ever be a better father than you, Aaron.”

He knows Hotch recognizes the use of his first name, something flashes in Hotch’s eyes when he hears it.

“Jack loves you, and one day he’ll understand it better. If he didn’t get to talk to you before the play started, it was because Haley didn’t let him.” Spencer pauses for a moment before he continues. “No matter what Haley does or says, or who she’s dating… you’ll always be Jack’s father because you love him more than anyone else possibly could.”

Hotch’s expression softens, and he smiles faintly at Spencer. “Thanks, Spencer.” Spencer notices that Hotch has used his first name, and he lets the corner of his mouth quirk up a little, before he nods and tilts his head to indicate the crime scene photos.

There’s a minute of silence as they study the images and compare them to the notes made by the first responding officers at the crime scene before Spencer speaks again. His voice is deliberately quiet, almost muttering, “plus, Haley can be a real bitch.”

He hears Hotch’s quiet laugh, but neither of them look up again.

…

The victim, it turns out, was a bartender at Aftershocks. Kaitlin Bernd, 21, an only child whose parents had died in a car crash two years earlier. She’d missed her shift at the club two nights ago, but it had happened before and no one had worried about it. Her boss and co-workers said that every few months Kaitlin would go MIA for a few days, usually back to her hometown where she would visit her parents’ graves.

As soon as Prentiss gives them the name, Spencer sees the way Hotch is watching Shawn. He knows Hotch is considering him as a suspect, trying to figure out if there’s a way he could fit the profile of the unsub. He knows the rest of the team is probably thinking the same way. Instinctively, Spencer also knows that Shawn had nothing to do with this.

When Hotch is alone, Spencer takes the chance to approach him. “Hey,” he says quietly. Hotch’s expression softens slightly when he looks at Spencer, waiting for him to continue. “You know Shawn didn’t do this, right?”

Hotch looks surprised for a moment before his expression turns incredulous. “Spencer, we’ve been here less than twenty-four hours. You’ve barely talked to this man, who, to be honest, seems to be a bit unstable, and you’re ready to rule him out as a suspect?”

“Hotch, think about it. Think about how many other crimes he’s helped solve in Santa Barbara. It’s highly unlikely that he’s been involved in fifty-some cases and helped bring them down from the inside.”

Hotch’s eyes flash, and Spencer knows that he’s put things back into perspective a little bit. “I don’t believe in psychics, Reid,” Hotch says.

Spencer holds his gaze before a second before he responds. “I don’t believe in them either, Hotch, but if he can help us find our unsub, does it really matter?”

After a moment, Hotch sighs and his shoulders sag. “I guess not,” he says. Spencer smiles at him slightly, his own shoulders relaxing. Hotch presses his lips together tightly and then asks, “So what do we know?”

…

Spencer is walking toward the bathroom in the nearly deserted police station, trying to dab the coffee he just spilled out of his pants with a napkin as he goes, when the sound of voices in the alcove just around the corner makes him stop.

“Shawn,” Lassiter bites out, and Spencer is a bit surprised; he’s never heard Lassiter refer to Shawn by his first name.

“Yes, Carlton?” Shawn shoots back in the same snippy tone.

There’s silence for a few seconds before he hears Lassiter sigh. “Shawn,” he says again, and this time his voice is low and intimate. “Please try not to get yourself kidnapped, or shot at, or chased by pirates—“

“Treasure hunters,” Shawn corrects, and his voice is just as quiet as Lassiter’s.

“--treasure hunters, whatever,” Lassiter continues, “or get yourself involved in an intricate game with a serial killer, okay? Please, just try not to get hurt.”

Spencer is intrigued. He makes a mental note to go through Shawn’s file when he gets a chance. Lassiter sounds completely serious, and Spencer doesn’t doubt that all of those things have happened to Shawn.

“I’ll do my best,” Shawn answers softly.

He hears Lassiter sigh again, as though he knows that’s the best he can ask for. “Just- if you’re going to do whatever- be careful, okay?”

“Okay.” Again there’s silence, and Spencer is imagining the look that Lassiter must have on his face when Shawn speaks again, his tone as light and playful as ever. “I’m going to get a churro,” he says, “can I interest you in a delectable cinnamon-sugar covered treat?

“No,” Lassiter says, and Spencer can almost hear him rolling his eyes.

“Your loss, Lassi-pants,” Shawn says, and Spencer doesn’t have time to move away before Shawn walks out of the alcove and around the corner toward the front of the station. He glances over at Spencer, not looking at all surprised to see him standing there, and shoots him a wide grin and a wink as he walks past.

Spencer flushes and turns around quickly, trying to move away before Lassiter realizes he was there. He has the feeling Lassiter would have a distinctly different reaction to Spencer having heard the conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

“It would be a hell of a lot easier if these people were branded at birth or something,” Hotch says, glaring at the photo in front of him.

Spencer smiles and says, “That would be nice, yes, if unlikely. But I think you’d find yourself chasing something else, even if you didn’t have this.”

Hotch looks up, confused, obviously not sure what to make of Spencer’s statement. “You’re too smart to deal with lower level crimes, you’re too ambitious to be anything but the best, and you’re too compassionate to let these kinds of things go on,” Spencer says.

Hotch smiles, but there’s a part of it that clearly implies that Haley has taught him otherwise. Sometimes Spencer wants to, you know, kick her or something, but he’s pretty sure she could kick his ass, so he refrains despite the occasional urge. Still, the word bitch comes to mind automatically when the name Haley does.

…

When he has a moment, Spencer reads Shawn’s file. The first thing he notices is a notation of Shawn having take the detective’s exam at the age of fifteen, and getting a perfect score. The second thing he notices is that Shawn’s father was a cop with the SBPD. His father had corroborated that Shawn possessed psychic powers, which Spencer finds somewhat odd; cops, in general, don’t usually take the use of outside help well, and almost all of them scoff at the idea of a psychic being able to solve a crime that they couldn’t.

There’s a sizeable gap between the notes in Shawn’s file, until Shawn returns to Santa Barbara at the age of twenty-nine. Many of the cases Shawn has worked are unremarkable, but there are some that are distinctly unusual. In one he had discovered a dinosaur, in another he had become the star of a Spanish soap opera, despite the fact that he didn’t speak Spanish.

Shawn has been kidnapped, he’s been shot, he’s been literally tied to railroad tracks, and been involved in myriad other dangerous situations, and he’s still the most enthusiastic and energetic person Spencer has ever met.

There’s one case that stands out to Spencer. Shawn had proved Lassiter innocent when all the evidence pointed to Lassiter being guilty and the rest of the department had given up. Spencer gets the feeling that that might have been the turning point in Shawn and Lassiter’s relationship.

He finishes scanning the file, but he doesn’t think reading it has made him understand Shawn any  
better.

…

That night Spencer dreams that he and Hotch are driving somewhere to meet Gideon up in Ohio. The rest of the team is missing, and Spencer starts to panic until Hotch looks over at him, and Hotch’s hands aren’t even on the wheel anymore, he’s just turned to look at Spencer. Before Spencer can say or feel or do anything, Hotch says, “I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?”

“What about Gideon?” Spencer asks, and he’s panicking because they’re still moving.

Hotch repeats himself. “I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?”

Spencer can see the bright lights of a car coming toward them, but he nods. “I always trust you,” he says.

He wakes up, diaphragm constricted so tightly he’s surprised he isn’t wheezing his way into a panic attack. “I always trust you,“ keeps reeling through his mind, and he lets his breath even out until he can fall back to sleep, thinking of the Hotch in his dream.

…

Shawn has been conspicuously absent from the station for a few hours before he shows up with Gus in tow. They’ve only been there a few minutes, lurking around the room where the BAU is working, when nachos are mentioned, and Shawn and Gus flip a coin to see which one of them has to go on a nacho run. Gus loses.

“And try not to piss off the vendor guy this time,” Shawn says.

“That was you, Shawn.” Gus replies

“I would never do such a thing,”

“You made an offensive comment about his mother in Spanish, and then you tried to steal extra jalepeno cheese.”

“Blasphemy,” Shawn says, “it was triple cheese thunder sauce, and might I remind you that I’m an icon to many Latino people?”

“Yeah, well that guy was not one of your fans.”

“He was probably one of the ones that was too shy to talk to me. Some people find my exquisite musculature and absolutely divine hair to be intimidating.”

“I’m pretty sure he was just pissed off that you stole from him.”

“Well, you say potato, I say go get me my nachos.”

“Just know if he spits in our nachos it’s your fault.”

“You’re saying potato again Gus.”

“You’re ridiculous, Shawn. Half the time I don’t even know why I put up with you.”

“It’s because of my full, mint condition set of Jurassic Park trading cards.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s not that.”

“We’re still gonna look at them when we back to the office, though.”

“You know that’s right.”

…

Spencer is standing in front of the map again, trying to come up with a suitable geographic profile for their unsub. With Gust not around to distract him, and Lassiter talking to Vick, Shawn is hanging around the BAU team. Right now Shawn has both hands on the table, leaning over and flirting with Prentiss.

There’s something about the pattern of abduction sites and dump sites that is nagging at Spencer, but he can’t pinpoint it.

The first two victims were abducted from the same area, and their dumpsites were northwest of the abduction site. The third victim was abducted on the same road used to dump the first two bodies and was taken directly east.

The dumpsites for the first three victims were all in rural areas, but the site of the fourth victim was in a park in a suburban area to the east.

He sighs in frustration and in his peripheral vision he sees Hotch look up at him. Hotch’s expression is surprisingly open, something like affection in his eyes. Spencer knows that’s only because Hotch thinks Spencer can’t see him. Still, Spencer’s breath hitches and his heart rate jumps.

Spencer lets his focus expand beyond the map and Hotch, hearing the conversations around him. J.J. is talking to O’Hara, explaining how the unsub would react to a press conference.

“He strangles them with his hands,” J.J. says, “indicating that he’s personalizing these attacks, transferring anger from his past onto these women.” He tunes that conversation out in favor of Shawn and Prentiss.

“Do you have a map?” He hears Shawn ask, his voice low and smooth. He tries to imagine Prentiss’ expression.

“There’s a map of Santa Barbra posted on that board over there,” Prentiss says.

“No, no, you ruined it! You need to shake your head no while giving me big doe eyes and thinking about our intense connection which has thus far only been communicated through those smoldering looks you keep giving me,” says Shawn. “Let’s do it again.” Shawn’s voice deepens. “Do you have a map?” He asks again.

Prentiss sighs, and Spencer imagines that she’s rolling her eyes.

“No? That’s too bad, ‘cause I keep getting lost in your eyes,” Spencer says, his voice schmaltzy with a hint of skeevy.

“You realize I have a gun, don’t you?” Prentiss says, but despite the clipped response, Spencer hears the trace of amusement in her voice. He turns around to watch the interaction.

“You know, people ask me that a lot. I think it’s because they’re intimidated by my hair; it inspires intense emotional reactions from those who see it. You know, it once incited a riot. Others claim the riot was because the Steelers had just won the Super Bowl, but I find it hard to believe it’s just a coincidence that my hair happened to be present.”

“Where is Mr. Guster?” Prentiss asks. “Or detective Lassiter. Someone else to distract you.”

“Gus has a ‘real job,’ and I’ve, kind of, sort of, based on events which were completely not my fault, except for that a few of them were my fault, but not really-“

“Spencer,” Prentiss bites out, in an excellent imitation of Lassiter.

Shawn looks momentarily taken aback before his smile reappears and he continues talking. “The thing is, I’ve been banned from the building.“

Prentiss snorts, “Somehow that does not surprise me.”

“But Gus is going to deliver me nachos before he goes back to work; might I entice you with some triple cheese thunder sauce?” Shawn asks.

At this point Morgan enters the room. “This guy bugging you, Prentiss?” He asks, but he’s obviously joking.

Before Prentiss has the chance to answer, Shawn jumps in. “She’s been completely rebuffing my best pick up lines. She’s like a coconut, absolutely impossible to crack unless you smash it on the floor.” At this Prentiss, Morgan, Hotch, and Spencer all raise their eyebrows. “Upon further thought, that may have been a bad analogy.”

“Yeah,” Prentiss says.

“If those are the types of lines you’re using, I’m surprised she hasn’t hit you by now,” Morgan says.

“He’s cutting it pretty close,” Prentiss says.

Spencer wonders what Lassiter’s reaction would be if he were around to hear this. He imagines Lassiter would be surly, as usual, but that the looks he shoots Shawn would be much more pissy than frustrated. Spencer thinks that maybe, if you were to assign gender roles in a same sex relationship, maybe Lassiter would be the girl.

The thought makes him laugh out loud, but it’s plausible that Prentiss’ last statement was the cause, and they all let him be.

…

“Lassi-pants!” Shawn stops in front of Lassiter, his arms splayed out wide like he wants a hug. Lassiter doesn’t even look up.

“Go away, Spencer.” Lassiter grabs a file from his desk and starts heading towards Vick’s office. Shawn and Gus fall in step with him.

“Come on Lassi, mi amigo, mi hombrero, mi chalupa, you know you love me,” Shawn says.

“That didn’t even make sense, Shawn,” Gus says, before Lassiter can answer.

“It did, too!” Shawn says.

“A chalupa is a tostada, and hombrero isn’t even a word.“ Gus argues.

“My point exactly, Gus. Everyone loves tostadas! And I think hombrero means hat.”

“Sombrero means hat, and the fact that you were trying to call Lassiter your hat is just weird. You really need to stop speaking in Spanish when you don’t even know what it is you’re saying.” Gus says, slightly exasperated.

“You need to stop speaking at all,” Lassiter growls.

“Come on, Lassi. We’re just here to offer our help.” Shawn says.

“Leave,” Lassiter says, and he walks into Vick’s office, closing the door behind him.

Shawn turns to Gus, apparently used to having Lassiter ignore him. “Want to go use one of the empty interrogation rooms to pretend we’re on NYPD Blue?”

“Only if I get to be Sipowicz this time.”

“Oh come on, man. Simone is all uptight, I can’t play a good Simone. He’s your guy, you were meant to pretend to be him interrogating an imaginary suspect. It’s written in the stars, it’s your destiny!”

Gus scoffs. Shawn and Gus start to walk away, and Spencer hears “Rock, paper, scissors for him.”

Gus’ answer is firm. “No, Shawn. You always end up trying to use laser gun, or flamethrower, or…” Spencer can’t hear the rest of the sentence as the two turn a corner.

Spencer glances over at Hotch, who is standing next to him with two cups of Starbucks. Hotch’s shoulder is just brushing his, and he remembers what Shawn had said. Hotch hands a coffeee to Spencer, tilting his head in the direction Shawn and Gus just went. “This is an… unusual set up for a police department,” Hotch says. Spencer hums his agreement. After a second, Hotch adds, “Although I am tempted to go and watch. I bet Shawn does an interesting Sipowicz.”

“Yeah. A little levity can help keep us from seeing the worst in everyone.” Spencer smiles. He glances up at Hotch and realizes Hotch has been watching him with a small smile of his own.

He holds Hotch’s gaze for a few seconds swallowing thickly, knowing his cheeks are coloring slightly. He finally looks down, letting his hair cover his eyes and thinking that Hotch didn’t do look at people like that, thinking that maybe that was a moment or something. And then he thinks he’s reading way too much into it because Hotch probably thinks of him as a little brother or something.

“Where are we on finding a connection between the girls?” Spencer asks, and he and Hotch head back to the rest of the team.

…

Spencer sees Shawn do it again, this time in a seemingly innocent conversation with one of the SBPD. There’s a mixture of dirt and oil under the fingernails of the officer, and he sees Shawn focus on that, then at the keychain hanging partially out of the man’s pocket.

“How’s the restoration on that T-Bird coming?” Shawn asks.

The officer looks momentarily stunned before he smiles and says, “Good, really good, actually.”

Shawn smiles and says, “Keep at it, you’ll have it done in no time.”

As the man walks away, Shawn looks up at Spencer and tilts his head. Spencer finds himself frowning. Even though he wasn’t technically asking a question Shawn nods, looking somewhat defeated, and walks over to Spencer. “Lets go get some tacos,” he says.

Spencer is confused, and knows he should be paying more attention to this case, but he goes with Shawn anyways. Once they’re outside of the station Shawn says, “So, you’ve got it, right?”

Spencer nods, wishing he had sunglasses. “You have an eidetic memory,” he says.

Shawn grins. “People often refer to it as a photographic memory, which isn’t technically correct,” Shawn says.

Spencer smiles. “Yeah.” He waits a moment before he says, “You use it differently than I do.”

“I use it the way that I was taught to.”

“I remember everything I read, everything I see.”

“Yeah, but can you recite the number of hats, belts, black shoes, blonde women, or whatever in a room when you’re asked on the spot?”

“Why would I have to do that?”

“In case my dad asks you during breakfast, stating you can’t have your steak and eggs unless you get it right.”

“Wow,” Spencer says, feeling a little sorry for Shawn.

It must show, because Shawn smiles and says, “I know, right? For seven years all I got were pancakes. Now, you might be thinking, ‘pancakes? Who doesn’t love pancakes?’” Shawn looks at him and stops, sighs. “My dad was training me to be the world’s greatest detective.”

“Well, he did a pretty good job.”

Shawn laughs quietly. “Tell him that.”

“He isn’t, you know. Proud of you?”

“Yeah, no, he’s still pretty mad that I swore I would never be a cop and then ended up in a prison cell in Panama three days after my eighteenth birthday.” Spencer must look confused or something, because Shawn adds, “Don’t worry, that was the only time I ended up in a foreign prison.”

…

Shawn is leaning back in the chair behind O’Hara’s desk, and Spencer props himself against it, somewhat awkwardly. Lassiter walks by, and Shawn blows him a kiss, not surprised when Lassiter just scowls and keeps walking.

“He makes those faces, but we all know he loves it,” Shawn says.

Spencer tilts his head a little and then clears his throat. “So how did you. Um-“ he makes a sweeping hand gesture. “-How did he and you, you know. Get together.”

“Lassi hated me, absolutely detested me,” Shawn says, smiling widely. “I called in an anonymous tip about a case, and they had me come down here. They were going to arrest me, so I just. I said I was psychic, and I got them to believe me, and every time I solved a case Lassi’s resentment grew even more.”

Spencer waits for Shawn to pause before he asks, “Why do you still call him Lassi, even when you know that I know about the two of you?”

Shawn’s smile broadens, “It pissed him off so much I couldn’t resist it at first. Now it’s just a habit, I guess. I mean, I call him Carlton when we’re alone,” Shawn says, adding, “You call Agent Hotchner Hotch.”

“Well, yeah; he’s my superior. It’s common for Agents to refer to there superior in a professionl manner out of deference and as a sign of trust. And then there’s the fact that Hotch and I aren’t sleeping together.”

Shawn wiggles his eyebrows and throws in, “Yet.”

Spencer flushes, tipping his head down and letting his hair fall down to cover his face. “It’s not like that,” Spencer mumbles.

Shawn’s laugh isn’t unexpected, but his, “It will be,” is. Spencer’s head snaps up and he looks Shawn in the eye. Shawn is relaxed and confident, and he tilts his head before he speaks again. “The way he smiles at you is different than the way he smiles at everyone else. He stands closer to you than he does anyone else. He gives you reassuring touches, and you both feel something when he does.”

“That’s… I don’t know, that’s just. Something.,” Spencer says, and he honestly has no idea what to say.

Shawn snorts, “He gives you ‘I want to rip off your clothes and spread rice pudding all over you’ looks.“ Spencer looks a little disgusted and Shawn tones it down a little. “And I’d bet that he opens up to you more than he does with anyone else. ”

Spencer is silent for a moment before he asks, “You can see all that in watching us for a day and a half?”

Shawn smiles. “I’ve spent a long time reading people. I saw that in the first two hours.”

“Oh my god,” Spencer says, “are you trying to make Hotch jealous?”

Shawn just grins, and Spencer shakes his head. “Stop. Stop it, seriously.”

Shawn is still grinning, “Spencer and Hotchner sitting in a tree-“

Spencer interrupts. “I hate that song,” he says, and then clears his throat and awkwardly tries to turn the attention away from himself. “What changed between you and Detective Lassiter? How did you two, you know…”

Spencer smirks, but allows the change of course.

“He bit me,” Shawn says.

Spencer must look incredibly confused, and Shawn laughs before he speaks again.

“I flirted with him and teased him and annoyed him for two years. I was like a second-grader on the playground, and Lassi had this habit of pushing me against walls when he was frustrated, and I loved it. I’d keep pestering him every time he got annoyed with me, just to see if he’d do it again. And then he got shot in the arm following a lead I gave him, and I was feeling so guilty and being such a mother hen that three days later he did it again. He threw me against the wall one-handed, and I kissed him.”

“And that was it?”

“No, I already told you, he bit me.”

Spencer is confused, and it must show because Shawn laughs nods. “Yup. He bit me and he walked away and he ignored me for two days.”

“And then?”

“And then he showed up on my doorstep at ten o’clock at night, and when I opened the door he kissed me. And then he threatened to kill me, but then he kissed me again, so I decided not to pay attention to the death threat.”

“Huh.” They sit in silence for a moment. “When you’re in front of people, at the station. He still snaps at you, it seems like he’s always mad at you.”

“Oh no, yeah that’s totally real. It pisses him off to no end that I’m not a detective but I’m still put on so many cases.”

“Does he know? I mean, about how you do it?”

“Not really. He’s never believed I was really psychic, but he doesn’t ask anymore, and I don’t volunteer anything.”

Spencer gets called away to go interview the latest victim’s best friend. Before he leaves he asks, “You ever going to tell him?”

Shawn just shrugs.

…

Spencer is standing with J.J. in the hallway, waiting for Hotch’s order to go talk to the family of the first victim, when Shawn and Gus walk by on their way out of the building. Shawn looks at Spencer and bites his lip, fluttering his eyelashes a little bit. It’s ridiculously over the top, and no one in their right mind would believe that Shawn was actually flirting with him that shamelessly. Or poorly.

Except when he rolls his eyes and turns to J.J., she has her eyebrows raised and she’s giving Spencer a weird look.

Spencer doesn’t know what to think; even if Shawn were actually flirting with him, he’d like to believe that J.J. would be supportive of it. She and Morgan were always trying to get him to go out with them, to ‘meet new people, Reid,’ as Morgan had said, before adding ‘you have to broaden your horizons.’

So, yeah. Even if Spencer were really flirting with him, he’d like to think J.J. would be encouraging. Instead she’s biting her lip, staring after Shawn with an almost apprehensive look on her face.

…

He and Hotch are alone in the conference room, sitting side by side again. Spencer sighs, thinking that he can’t see anything new in the pattern and knowing that the unsub has another girl somewhere.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been spending some time with Mr. Spencer,” Hotch says, his voice deliberately light.

Spence nods and clears his throat. “He’s actually a very interesting person. I mean, besides the obvious exuberance, he’s actually very smart, and he’s had some unique experiences.”

“His outgoing personality is a mask,” Hotch says, “he’s compensating for something.”

Spencer smiles, knowing how amused Shawn would be to hear that. “Yeah, I know that. But at least he’s entertaining while does it.”

Hotch looks over at him seriously. “I’m surprised these people get anything done with him around.”

Spencer looks back at him, equally as serious. “I have a feeling Shawn is more of a help than a hindrance. No matter his unusual methods.” Spencer bumps his shoulder against Hotch’s lightly, “He’s a good guy, Hotch,” he says, and that heat flashes through Hotch’s expression again.

Spencer swallows thickly, and he tries to smile as he turns back to the pictures.

…

“So,” Shawn says, sidling up to Spencer against the back wall of the room, “your team is kind of obsessed with me.”

Spencer laughs quietly. “They think I have a crush on you. They also don’t believe you’re a psychic.”

“First, I could be psychic, and second, everyone has a crush on me,” Shawn says easily, “it’s the charming smile and brilliant insights into the secret thoughts of cats. Also, the jeans. I’ve been told they make my ass look great.” Spencer is vaguely tempted to look down and check it out for himself, but he refrains. Shawn smirks anyway, as if he knows how tempted Spencer was. “Sadly for you and every other sexually aware being in the World, I’m taken, and Lassi is oddly quick to resort to gunfire.”

“There’s a quality to look for in a boyfriend,” Spencer retorts.

“Well if it eases your mind at all, which it won’t, he’s a little jealous that I’ve been talking to you so much and that it’s in a serious capacity that took months for he and I to reach.”

“Great. Can’t wait to be shot at inside a police station, by an officer. I’ll add it to my list of awesome things that happen to Spencer Reid.”

Shawn’s eyes soften and his expression turns a little more serious.

“Hey, Lassiter knows I would never do anything.” After a moment Shawn adds, “and I’m pretty sure Hotch is a little jealous, too.” Spencer doesn’t know what to say to that, and Shawn grins.

Spencer immediately realizes that no good can come from whatever it is Shawn has just decided to do.

…

Spencer lets Shawn look over some of the photos with him, Shawn standing behind Spencer, who’s sitting in his chair. Shawn is leaning forwards, close to Spencer, and Spencer doesn’t notice the looks that Morgan, J.J. and Prentiss are giving each other. He also doesn’t notice Hotch’s slight frown, or the way he keeps glancing over.

Eventually they call it a night, and Spencer rides to the hotel with Morgan, who doesn’t say anything but keeps glancing at him during the drive.

…

The next day Garcia calls in with a possible missing girl. She fits the unsubs’s type. As he heads over to the table to listen in on Morgan’s speakerphone conversation with Garcia, and she’s been missing for two days. He hears the tail end of some question Morgan is asking as he walks into the room.

“Only if you admit that you’re the minion of the amazingly talented queen of the cyber world,” Garcia responds, her voice scratchy through the phone.

…

Around noon the next day Shawn and Gus enter the station, walking perfectly in step, and Gus thumbs his nose and looks to the left as they head down the hall. Spencer knows they’ve practiced that, because it’s too seventies b-roll detective movie to be a coincidence.

While Spencer is talking to McNabb and Prentiss about other missing persons cases in the past year, Shawn brings Spencer a cup of coffee made exactly to his liking. Spencer smiles and takes it without thinking. As he’s about to take a sip, he freezes and stares at Shawn’s retreating form. Shawn turns for a moment and winks at him, and Spencer flushes while he glares.

…

“If you’re going to try and make Hotch jealous, which I think you should stop doing, by the way, but if you are going to continue, wouldn’t it be more effective if you did it when Hotch is actually around?”

Shawn grins. “Word of mouth,” he says. “Just as much impact. Maybe more. Rumors can really get out of control.”

Spencer groans. “Tell me you didn’t start some ridiculous rumor about me.”

“I didn’t have to,” Shawn says. “Prentiss took care of it.”

“Oh, god. What did she say?”

“Apparently, our taco adventure yesterday sparked the beginning of a romantic tryst.”

“Taco adventure?”

“That’s what you’re going to focus on? Really? Anyway, there’s more… apparently, your team is wary of how Super Special Agent Hotchy Q. Hotchingheim is going to take it.”

“Super Special Agent Hotchy Q. Hotchingheim?”

“Once again, you have missed the point of the statement. Though you are right, Hotchy Q. Hotchingheim might be too much.”

“Might be?”

“Okay, okay. Super Special Agent HotchityHotch?”

“The SSA stands for Supervisory Special Agent.”

“Are you saying that Hotch isn’t super special?”

Spencer rolls his eyes, then backtracks. “Wait, they’re worried about how he’ll will take it?”

Shawn grins. “Now he gets it.”

“Huh.”

“I think this calls for some FroYo, don’t you?”

“You eat more junk food than anyone I have ever met,” Spencer says.

“You put like seven cups of sugar in your coffee. Come on, if we go together J.J. and Prentiss might explode from the gossip overload.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, but follows anyway.

…

Shawn ends up in the room with the BAU team again, under the pretense of discussing Henry with J.J. Spencer notices the way Shawn glances at the map, focus becoming intense for a few seconds, before focusing on J.J. again. He keeps up his conversation, really pushing the idea of footie pajamas (“Gus wore footie pajamas until he was twenty, and look how well he turned out”), but Spencer sees him calculating in his head.

Gus, as though he has some sixth sense notifying him when Shawn is telling outlandish lies about him, appears at Shawns’s side, shaking his head. “I did not wear footie pajamas until I was twenty, Shawn.”

“You wore them when you were twelve,” Shawn says. “Twelve, twenty, you know time, it’s really such an arbitrary thing.” Spencer sees Shawn focus on the map for another second, something like realization sparking in his eyes before he turns back to Gus.

“You wore them, too, Shawn.”

“Yes, but mine had G.I. Joe on them, making them inherently more manly than yours.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Chip and Dale, Rescue Rangers. They were involved in many zany and entertaining adventures. “

J.J. smiles and interrupts, saying, “As much as I’d love to see where this conversation goes, I really need to get back to work.”

“No problem,” Shawn says.

Chief Vick is walking by, stopping to say something to O’Hara when Shawn makes a sound reminiscent of a bird’s caw, closing his eyes and putting both hands out in front of him. “I’m feeling something, it’s intense.” Shawn moves forward until his hand hits the back of Spencer’s head.

“Ow,” Spencer says. Shawn’s hand moves down to smush Spencer’s face before he begins speaking again. Spencer tries to pry Shawn off, but it’s a lost cause. “I’m getting a Mc—something. McCaskey…McCormick…McGregor…McNugget?”

“Move it along, Mr. Spencer,” Vick says.

Shawn glances at her and then suddenly blurts out, “MacArthur Park!”

Everyone around him looks confused, save Vick and Hotch, who are both smirking.

“But there’s no MacArthur Park around here,” Buzz says tentatively.

“I think he’s referencing the song,” Hotch says dryly, but a twitch of his lip betrays the smile that he’s holding back.

Shawn stops at the complete confusion most officers are displaying and removes his hand from Spencer‘s face. “Seriously? MacArthur Park? No one? The song about the cake and the rain and the guy who doesn’t think he can take it ‘cause it took so long to bake it? Come on, people, work with me here.”

“There’s a McCarden park on the outskirts of the city,” Buzz offers.

Shawn raises his and to his temple again and points at Buzz. “Yes, I think my psychic vibrations are agreeing with you, Buzz, that is the park.” He drops his hand again and looks out at the officers and agents all staring at him. “I’m pretty sure the spirits are also telling you to go listen to MacArthur Park. I mean seriously, people. ”

Spencer doesn’t miss Hotch’s smirk, though he still looks less than impressed by Shawn.

…

Morgan approaches him about Spencer and Shawn’s relationship, and it occurs that though he’s never technically expounded upon his sexual orientation to the team, they seem to have pegged him as bisexual, if not gay.

“What’s up with you and that psychic kid?” Morgan asks, always straight to the point. His brevity is appreciated in this circumstance, and Spencer sighs.

“Nothing,” he answers, and Morgan raises his eyebrows in a clear display of disbelief. “Seriously. It’s just- he sees things from a different perspective.”

“So this is like some psych study thing you’re doing?”

“Not at all,” Spencer says, “I genuinely like Shawn.”

Morgan’s expression changes, flickers briefly between disbelief and questioning as he unconsciously glances at Hotch for a second.

“Seriously, Morgan. You should talk to him, sometime. He’s actually a very interesting person. His character shifts based on his surroundings and what he believes will perceived of him, as well as the known information and his emotional state at the time.”

Morgan raises his eyebrows, confused as to what point Spencer is trying to make. “He can actually be rather serious,” Spencer says.

Morgan seems to let it go, but he mutters something that sounds like, “as long as Hotch doesn’t kill him,” too low for Spencer to make out completely, muffled by the rim of Morgan’s coffee mug.

Across the room Shawn notices that Spencer and Morgan are staring at him, and he grins widely and waves his hand enthusiastically, almost hitting Lassiter in the face. Spencer thinks that Shawn is not helping his argument right now and Lassiter scowls and grabs Shawn’s arm, effectively stilling him and regaining his attention.

Morgan snorts quietly and glances at Spencer, muttering, “Serious, huh?” before he wanders over to join J.J. and Prentiss.

Spencer can’t help but think that if Morgan hadn’t had his mind set on his preconceived idea of Shawn and Spencer’s relationship then maybe he would have stayed to see the puppy-dog eyes Shawn gives Lassiter, and the way Lassiter rolls his eyes but lets his grip loosen so his fingers are just looped around Shawn’s wrist.

…

Spencer wonders what the rest of the team think of his and Hotch’s relationship as it is right now, based on what they saw before they came to this case. It makes his chest tighten slightly to think that they see something between Hotch and himself. If people around him see it, then maybe there’s really something there.

…

Hotch and Morgan head to the park, just to check out the area. J.J. and Prentiss decide to use this time to interrogate Shawn. Spencer would be amused, but he actually feels bad because J.J. and Prentiss are looking out for Spencer in their own way.

“Ladies, ladies,” Shawn says, smiling. “You are totally making me uncomfortable and I’m making a break for it,” Shawn says quickly, ducking between them and moving down the hall before either of them can do anything about it. It probably doesn’t help things that when they look over at Spencer, he’s smiling stupidly.

…

Shawn is sitting on the edge of Lassiter’s desk again, and Spencer is standing in front of him as they try to piece together what exactly had happened when Kaitlin Bernd was taken. Officially, they couldn’t designate an abduction site, but Shawn had noticed a spot in the park closest to the club Kaitlin worked where a few things just seemed off. A skid mark in the grass, like someone had dug their heels in the ground as they were jerked forward, a piece of ripped fabric the color of the club’s uniform shirt.

Spencer is picturing the scene again, wondering how he could have the same visual memory as Shawn but not notice those tiny details, when he sees Hotch approaching, his expression serious. He stops in mid-sentence, and Shawn smirks when Hotch steps a little closer to Spencer than is strictly necessary. Their arms are brushing, and Spencer would only have to flex his wrist to catch Hotch’s hand with his own. He doesn’t realize he's holding his breath until Shawn speaks.

“Hey there Agent Hotchner. Spencey and I were just having a little chat, but I think we’ve about covered it, so you can have him back now.” He turned his focus back to Spencer, “I’ve never thought of it like that, but you’re right, they probably are trying to turn gerbils into WMDs. Anyway, I’d better get going. Gus gets cranky if we miss the eight o’clock airing of the Golden Girls.” He hops up, grabbing Spencer’s arm and pulling him close to give him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. “Toodles!”

Spencer flushes heavily as Shawn walks away, and he glances up to see that Hotch has one eyebrow raised, his eyes darkening. “I. Uh. That- that wasn’t. Uh,” Spencer stammers, before he realizes that he has no idea what to say. He closes his mouth and swallows thickly.

“Garcia has something,” Hotch says, and he gives Spencer an unreadable look before he turns and walks away. His shoulders are tense, and Spencer wonders exactly what about the situation caused that heat to flash through Hotch’s eyes.

As he heads back to the conference room he hears Shawn’s voice, singing off tune. “Thank you for being a frieeend, traveled ‘round the world and back agaaaain…”


	3. Chapter 3

It’s late, almost midnight, and the rest of the team has gone home, except for Hotch who is rearranging the photos on the board. Shawn has come back in a failed attempt to drag Lassiter home.

In the meantime, Spencer and Shawn are are going to head down to the shooting range by themselves (“for funsies” as Shawn had put it), but when Spencer mentions it Hotch quickly vetoes the idea, citing that it’s unsafe and unprofessional for a citizen to be in a shooting range with a federal agent, especially in an area where said federal agent had no jurisdiction.

Lassiter overhears the interaction and offers to accompany Shawn. Lassiter looks somewhat smug, and Spencer imagines that Lassiter is going to be one of those cops who is overly proud of his shooting ability. They put on their ‘awesomely orange, like, more orange that oranges even’ earmuffs and Hotch and Lassiter step up to shoot first.

Hotch’s aim is impeccable, as always, his hands steady and his rounds all headshots. Lassiter has surprisingly good aim himself, one round hitting in the upper neck and one in what would be the ear, but the rest near the middle of the forehead. Spencer can’t help the profiler in him, pegging Lassiter as the kind of man that uses the shooting range to work out his anger and frustration.

Lassiter reloads and hands his gun over to Shawn, and they reel out a new set of targets.

Spencer’s hands are a little shaky, but he only misses the head twice, once at the top of the neck and once on what would be the collarbone. When they reel in the targets, both he and Hotch are surprised at Shawn’s. Shawn has shot a perfect circle in the center of the forehead, the five holes like the points of a star and shaped that way with obvious intention.

Spencer glances at Lassiter, who is looking smug again, and he realizes that Lassiter’s pride isn’t for himself, but for Shawn. They pull the ear muffs off, and Hotch asks where Shawn, a civilian, learned to shoot that accurately. Shawn just shrugs and tells him it’s a long story. Spencer thinks it probably has to do with his father’s occupation.

Lassiter asks Hotch something about the FBI and they fall into a conversation about field agents or something. Spencer smiles at Shawn, gesturing to the target. “You should give me lessons- I tend to get flustered during proficiency tests and, well… miss. A lot.”

Shawn laughs and says, “I’ll do my best, but I find that I’m at the height of my teaching power when people give me sweet FBI sweatpants and buy me churros.”

“I’m not sure if we even have sweatpants.”

“Then we, my friend, may have a problem. Do you have FBI fanny-packs? I’m pretty sure they’re making a comeback.”

Hotch finishes his conversation with Lassiter and Hotch’s hand curls around Spencer’s elbow lightly.

“We need to be back here at seven, and I’m the last car here. You coming?”

Spencer nods, and tries to send Shawn a meaningful glare to stop Shawn’s wiggling of his eyebrows as he and Hotch head for the stairs. As they’re climbing up, Shawn and Lassiter out of sight, they hear Shawn laugh and say, “What has you so riled up?”

“I love watching you shoot,” Lassiter says his voice deep and quiet. Spencer wants to laugh as Hotch’s head turns back, surprised and listening.

“Weirdest kink ever, but whatever gets you off,“ Shawn says. There’s no more conversation but Lassiter makes a sound vaguely like a growl, and Spencer nudges Hotch forward with his hand on Hotch’s lower back at the sound of a half-moaned, “Carlton.”

Once they’re alone in the SUV, Hotch looks over at Spencer before he even turns the ignition. “You knew about them?” Hotch asks.

Spencer just shrugs and nods, not knowing exactly what to say.

Hotch stares at Spencer for a few more seconds before he starts the car. “They’re not exactly discreet about it.”

Spencer looks over at Hotch with a smile on his face. “That was, uh. I think that was for your benefit. At least Shawn, you know. Saying that while he knew you could still hear.” Hotch’s expression is unreadable, so Spencer adds, “They’ve been discreet enough that the only person in the SBPD who knows about it is O’Hara. And that’s just because she has such close ties to both Shawn and Gus.”

Hotch is silent for a few minutes, and as they’re pulling up to the hotel he asks, “Why did Shawn want me to know about them?”

Spencer blushes and looks down. “Just. Didn’t want anyone to assume there was something between him and myself.”

He glances at Hotch as Hotch parks the car, and they get out in silence. When they’re in the elevator the silence has become so heavy that it’s awkward, and Spencer clears his throat. “It was just professional. So you would know that there isn’t a conflict of interests.”

He knows Hotch wants to point out that dating a psychic detective who is not a policeman is in no way a conflict of interest. As long as Spencer does his job, as long as the unsub is found, Spencer can do whatever he wants. Hotch remains silent, his eyebrows pulled down together, obviously not buying it, when the elevator doors open.

Spence practically runs down the hall, calling a, “Night, Hotch,” over his shoulder as he turns the corner to his and Morgan’s room.

…

The next morning Spencer approaches Shawn in the break room. “First you try to make him jealous and then you start moaning Lassiter’s name while we’re still in the room?” Spencer asks.

Shawn smiles, “First, it worked, he was jealous. Second, I’m giving you some great cover from your  
team here.”

Spencer frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“Everyone on your team thinks we’re totally doing it.”

“They know we’re not ‘doing it,’” Spencer says. “We share hotel rooms.”

Shawn shrugs, “Well, then they think that we want to do it.”

“How is this beneficial to me?” Spencer asks.

“It gives you some room to seduce HotchyHotchingstein without them looking over your shoulder.”

“Huh.”

…

Spencer and Prentiss spend the better part of the afternoon driving around Santa Barbara interviewing friends of the latest victim. There was no one in her life that seemed suspicious or out of place. In the car, driving back to the station, Prentiss clears her throat and Spencer knows exactly what is coming next.

“Shawn is pretty cute,” Prentiss says.

Spencer rolls his eyes and makes a non-committal noise.

“You, uh, you think there’s something there?” Prentiss asks. Before he can answer Prentiss continues. “Because you know we’d be okay with it; J.J. and Will did it, and everyone was okay with it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Spencer says, and he’s getting tired of this.

“You might just want to tell Hotch up front, not try and hide it or anything.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows at this. “J.J. hid it.”

“Well, yeah.” Prentiss obviously can’t think of anything else to say.

“Why, what do you think Hotch would say?” Spencer baits her.

Prentiss flushes, “I don’t know. It just… it might be a good idea to warn him.”

Spencer nods and looks out the window. He honestly does want to know what Hotch would say if he found out Shawn and Spencer legitimately had feelings for one another.

…

Spencer and J.J. spend the early afternoon matching the geographical profile with the park. It’s not a pattern that’s easily recognized, but if you overlaid a tilted star over the dumpsites, the points would line up.

…

Morgan finishes speaking with Kaitlin’s roommate, and it’s official. The park is what the girls had in common. It turns out that all of them had jogged there in the mornings, not necessarily every day, but enough to catch someone’s attention if he was watching. It’s been three days since the last girl was taken, and the team has to think ahead, has to try and think like the unsub. They don’t know if he’s going to be back at the park today, if he’ll be trying to find his next victim, or if he’ll be too busy with the girl he already has to make a move.

…

Spencer and Hotch ride back to the hotel together, the silence somewhat awkward. Spencer is fixed on the implication that Hotch might have been jealous. He keeps cycling between, ‘Shawn was so dead on about me, it must be true,’ and ‘Shawn pretends to be a psychic for a living, and Hotch is Hotch,’ and ‘everyone keeps asking about it and then mentioning Hotch, it must be true’. In the end he just finds himself anxious.

They’re at a red light when Hotch looks over at him and half smiles, obviously amused as he asks, “You okay there, Reid?”

Spencer tries to school his expression into one of neutrality, and he looks at Hotch and says, “Yeah.” Only his voice cracks and it comes out all high-pitched and Spencer feels like an idiot. Hotch’s laughter doesn’t help, either. He clears his throat and says, “I’m fine,” in a normal pitch.

Hotch grins and Spencer smiles back, knowing he’s blushing. There must be something showing in his expression, because Hotch’s smile fades and his look turns darker for a moment, calculating. Spencer looks away, and the light turns green.

They make the rest of the trip back in silence, Hotch glancing over at Spencer a few times, and Spencer feeling more and more nervous.

Once they’re in the elevator, Hotch looks at him seriously. “Hey, Reid, what’s up?” He asks it in that tone that everyone uses when they’re referring to the drug use.

Spencer is a little annoyed as he shakes his head and says, “No, no. Nothing.”

Hotch is still looking at him, and he raises his eyes to meet Hotch’s. It still looks like Hotch is calculating. Spencer smiles tightly, “It’s nothing.”

When the doors open, Spencer walks out first, and he’s about to say goodnight when Hotch grabs his wrist. It’s not hard, or anything, but the pressure is there and Spencer turns back, eyes wide.

Hotch looks him in the eye for a few more seconds before he breathes out, letting Spencer’s wrist drop. They’re standing close; Spencer wants to push forward and close the distance, but he stands completely still, instead.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Hotch says, and he almost smiles as he brings his hand up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Spencer’s ear. He leaves his hand there, his palm pressed against Spencer’s cheek, and whispers, “Spencer,” so lightly it sounds like a breath.

Spencer follows his gut reaction, turning his head into the touch, his mouth almost touching Hotch’s pulse point. Hotch inhales sharply when Spencer moves to brush his lips across the skin, and when Spencer looks up, Hotch’s eyes are dark and heated.

The sound of a door opening down the corridor snaps them out of it, and Hotch moves away as they both look at J.J., in her pajamas at the end of the hallway, holding an ice bucket. She stands still for a moment, looking at them, before she moves toward them and around the corner to the ice machine.

“Um,” Spencer says, and he honestly can’t read Hotch’s expression, except that part of it is surprise. “I should go. To bed. Now.” He turns and walks away, around the corner J.J. had just turned and to his and Morgan’s room. When he passes J.J. on the way, he smiles tightly, and she blushes and kind of smiles back.

…

The next morning J.J. is watching both Hotch and himself, and Spencer tries very hard not to look over at Hotch, but he thinks Hotch glances over at him least twice. None of the others are looking, though, so he knows J.J. was discreet about it, and for that alone he’s incredibly grateful.

…

They’re walking down the street to the coffee shop when Hotch lets it slip that Haley is engaged. Spencer knows that Hotch has only been on a handful of dates since the divorce, and he knows that Hotch wouldn’t let any of them lead to anything, even if there was a spark there. Hotch is terrified that if he lets himself get attached to anyone or anything that he’ll ruin it.

That’s what Haley has taught him to think- being devoted to his job means he shouldn’t get to have anything else. He knows that Hotch sees it in black and white now, and this is one of the reasons Spencer hates Haley. Spencer is a firm believer in shades of grey.

Hotch shrugs his shoulders when Spencer questions the admission, and they walk in silence for a minute before Hotch speaks again. “I knew she was dating other people,” and another surge of anger rises through Spencer; she was dating other people when she was still married to Hotch. “I knew we were long past over, but…,” Hotch trails off.

Spencer glances over at him and sees the completely defeated look on Hotch’s face. He stops abruptly, grabbing Hotch by the wrist and forcing him to stop as well. Hotch turns to him, and for a moment Spencer can’t think of the right thing to say. Spencer gives up on trying to sound diplomatic and just says what he feels, letting go of Hotch’s wrist. “I don’t know the details of your divorce, nor do I ever want to. But I know that you think you chose the team over her, and that’s not true.”

Hotch opens his mouth, ready to refute him, but Spencer just keeps talking. “She knew who you were Hotch. I don’t doubt that she loved you at one point. But she knew this job, and she knew what it meant to you, and if she couldn’t understand that and support you in it…”

Spencer struggles to find the right words, and in the silence he expects to hear Hotch’s voice cut in and tell him that he’s gone over the line. Hotch stays quiet, though, and so Spencer finally says, “You’re smart, you’re handsome, and you’re devoted to your job. You’re an amazing person, Aaron. You deserve someone who realizes that.”

Spencer knows that he sounds like a twelve-year old girl saying it, and he knows he’s blushing furiously, but he maintains eye contact the whole way through.

Hotch looks at him for a moment, expression unreadable before he lets a small, if somewhat sad, smile come through. “You should tell some of my recent dates that,” he says, wryly.

“They should already know,” Spencer says quietly, and then immediately wants to take the words back. Hotch’s smile grows a little, though, and he tilts his head in the direction of the coffee shop.

They start walking again, and Hotch looks over at Spencer, still smiling. “Thanks,” he says. After a beat, for the sole purpose of making Spencer uncomfortable, he adds, “So you think I’m handsome, huh?”

Spencer makes a strangled sound, and Hotch’s smile turns into a grin.

…

They catch a break when Hotch and Morgan are checking out the park. They see a dark blue Ford Explorer idling in the parking lot, facing the jogging path. Hotch motions for them to move closer, and when the man realizes they’re officers he throws the car in reverse, his face panicked. Hotch had taken one perfectly aimed shot and hit the unsub’s front left tire. They bring him in for resisting arrest, hoping they can find something more to pin on him.

Spencer hears this second-hand, but now he’s standing next to Hotch in the observation room. The man, Robert Stackhouse, is about Spencer’s age. He looks normal enough, though Spencer has learned through experience that there really isn’t such a thing as normal. As far as physical appearance, Stackhouse is about five-ten, mousy brown hair, no distinguishing features on his face or hands. Hotch sighs and Spencer brings up a hand to ostensibly pat him on the shoulder; instead he holds it raised awkwardly for a moment before he brings it down to rest on Hotch’s shoulder.

Each of them have their particular squicks, the things they hate to see in an offender. Hotch has two, the first is involving children, and the second is psychopathic lack of emotion. Stackhouse’s face has remained blank since they’ve brought him in, and even when he was shown the pictures of the victims, had seen his own work, his expression had remained steady.

“We’ll get to him, Hotch,” Spencer says. Hotch nods quietly, expression taut. Spencer stands next to him as they watch Stackhouse being interrogated. He leaves his hand on Hotch’s shoulder, drawing comfort from the contact.

…

Detective Lassiter is outside in the hallway, blocked from the room by Shawn and Gus, who appear to be singing 'Ebony and Ivory' in an attempt to divert Lassiter’s attention away from the interrogation in progress. Spencer smiles slightly as he walks out of the room, and Lassiter starts firing off questions so quickly that Spencer doesn’t even have time to fully process them, let alone answer them.

“Is that him? Did you get him? Did he confess? There are more victims aren’t there? I knew there were more, that sick son of a bitch.”

Spencer stops, his eyes widening. Gus glances over his shoulder and gives Spencer a look that plainly states, ‘do not say anything, turn around, and walk back into the room’. Spencer turns around slowly and walks back in.

“What happened to the coffee?” Hotch asks.

“I couldn’t get past 'Ebony and Ivory',” Spencer says. He smiles at Hotch’s completely confused look. “Lassiter’s a little… eager to jump in on the interrogation. Shawn and Gus are holding him at bay for right now.”

“I can imagine that Detective Lassiter would be the type to enjoy interrogation. I think we’re going to need a more subtle approach than throwing the suspect against the wall, though.”

Spencer blinks in surprise. “Shawn told you about that?”

Hotch looks confused. “Told me about what?”

Spencer smiles slightly at the thought that Hotch had so accurately pin-pointed Lassiter’s preferred method of releasing his frustration. “Nothing,” he says. “I guess that Lassiter can get… intense, sometimes.”

Hotch’s look says he doesn’t quite buy that that’s all, but he leaves it well enough alone and they turn back to watch Morgan’s interrogation. The man still seems remorseless, but Spencer can see the way his eyes keep flicking to the pictures of his victims, knowing at some point his pride of his handiwork will cause him to slip up.

The only thing they can do until then is wait while Morgan coaxes him closer and closer to a confession. Spencer thinks Lassiter probably doesn’t have that kind of patience, and he’s glad that Shawn is around to keep him under control.

…

Eventually Stackhouse gives in, and they’re lucky enough to find the missing girl still alive. It’s almost ten thirty p.m. when Morgan and Hotch make it to the shed he’s been keeping her in. She’s emaciated, covered in tiny cuts made by an incredibly sharp scalpel, and she looks terrified of everything around her.

As she’s telling her account to the police, he hears her say that Stackhouse made her watch as he killed the last victim, and how every day she was terrified he was going to bring someone else back with him because she knew it meant that she would die.

…

He and Hotch stand side by side while J.J. tells Chief Vick that they’ll be back in tomorrow morning to tie up loose ends. When Spencer rotates his shoulders, trying to loosen them, the back of his hand brushes Hotch’s. Hotch doesn’t move, he just looks at Spencer out of the corner of his eye. Spencer gives him a small smile.

…

Hotch places a hand on Spencer’s shoulder in passing while telling the team the plan for the night. Spencer smiles slightly, noticing the look on Prentiss’ face. Shawn still hasn’t let up on the overly zealous flirting aspect, and after last night Hotch has been alternating between hesitant distance and unconscious displays of affection.

Given that Spencer is somewhat confused himself, he imagines that J.J., Prentiss, and Morgan must be reeling through the possibilities themselves.

…

The day brings itself slowly to a close. They’re gathering most of their things, leaving what they’ll need when they stop by tomorrow, which is when they’ll give a final briefing and discuss how the BAU’s involvement will be part of the trial.

J.J. and Prentiss head off together, and Spencer thinks he hears them saying something about a hot tub and his mind jumps way ahead of him. He snaps back to attention when Morgan holds up his keys. “You comin’, man?” Morgan asks.

Spencer looks around him and sees Shawn sitting on Lassiter’s desk again, saying something that makes Lassiter roll his eyes.

“No I think that I’ll go back with Hotch, if that’s okay,” he says. Hotch nods and Morgan doesn’t say anything, shrugging before he follows after J.J. and Prentiss.

Spencer glances at Hotch before he moves down to talk to Shawn.

“You guys heading out?” Shawn asks, kicking one foot out and just missing Lassiter’s leg, and Spencer sees Lassiter’s resulting frown.

Spencer shakes his head. “We’ll be here tomorrow morning,” he says. Shawn kicks again, and this time Lassiter’s arm snaps out, catching Shawns ankle. Spencer doesn’t miss the look that Shawn gives Lassiter, and he’s amazed to see that acceptance and desire that comes across in Lassiter’s own expression.

“Okay, then,” Spencer says, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Shawn glances at him with a smile, and Spencer can't help noting that without the rest of his team there Shawn doesn’t bother with the flirting. “Goodnight,” Spencer says, and then he’s distracted again, leaning down to say something to Lassiter quietly, and Lassiter says something back in a voice that’s quiet and intimate. Spencer smiles as he turns and walks back to Hotch.

…

He and Hotch ride back to the hotel together, and Spencer manages to make himself anxious again. After last night he doesn’t know what to expect, and he’s practically shaking as he pushes his hair behind his ear. They make it through the car ride and up the elevator mostly silent, glancing at each other once in a while. Spencer is about to take off for his room, except Hotch grabs his wrist again, keeping him still.

This time Hotch doesn’t hesitate. Spencer looks at him, expression open, willing Hotch to make a move. He’s scared, and rightfully so, that if he does it and Hotch freaks out he’ll be the one to blame.

Hotch just looks at him for a moment before he moves forward, pressing Spencer against the wall. He comes in close; if either of them just move forward a few centimeters their lips will touch. “Spencer,” Aaron murmurs, and it does end up being Spencer who pushes forward to catch Hotch’s lips with his own.

Hotch kisses slowly and presses against Spencer, one hand cupping the back of Spencer’s neck. Spencer makes a noise, somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and he feels more than hears the way Hotch inhales sharply. Spencer curls his hands into the fabric of Hotch’s jacket, pulling back slightly to nip at Hotch’s bottom lip. He kisses the same spot, chastely, and then pulls back to look Hotch in the eye.

Hotch looks nervous, and Spencer leans in to kiss him again, trying to keep either of them from thinking. He parts his lips slightly, tongue running across Hotch’s lower lip and then into Hotch’s mouth as Hotch begins to respond. Spencer shifts up and against him, and this time it’s Hotch who makes the strangled noise. When Hotch pulls back he looks a little dazed.

“Aaron,” he murmurs, and it’s almost a question.

Hotch’s eyes are dark, his lips parted slightly, but Spencer can see the way he’s starting to pull back into overly rational SSA Hotchner. Spencer moves his hand up to circle Hotch’s arm loosely, doesn’t break eye contact. He knows Hotch is about to pull away, and he knows he can’t do anything about it. Pushing right now would just make Hotch retreat further, and all Spencer wants is to reassure him.

Hotch leans in again, kissing Spencer lightly before his expression turns serious.

“Aaron,” he breathes again, and this time he smiles. He lets Hotch take a step back, but doesn’t break eye contact, and his smile doesn’t falter.

“I have to, uh. I have to go call Jack, I have to say goodnight,” Hotch says, and he sill looks dazed. Spencer just nods, still smiling softly, knowing it’s almost three a.m. in D.C. Hotch takes another step back.

“Okay,” Spencer says, “goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.” Hotch stays still for a moment before he walks down the hall toward his own room.  
Spencer wonders vaguely what should be anxiety is merely anticipatory now.

...

They have to be back in the station at eight thirty a.m., a relatively late morning for them, but all they have to do is tie up loose ends. They just have to speak with the arresting officers, fill out the paperwork, make sure their testimony will be utilized correctly during the trial.

Shawn wanders in at nine a.m., incredibly early by his standards, and walks up to stand next to Spencer. “Hey,” Shawn says “you leaving?” Spencer looks at Shawn with his eyebrows raised and doesn’t say anything. “Case solved, you go. Right.”

“I highly doubt you’ll be heartbroken without me, Shawn,” and he can’t help the glance that strays to Hotch. Shawn raises his eyebrows.

“Oh-ho-ho,” Shawn says, “really now, who would’ve thought my little Spenceykins could move so fast?”

“No one,” Spencer says, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Hotch takes this opportunity to survey the room, his focus sharpening and an almost predatory look crossing his features when he looks at Spencer.

“You dog, you,” Shawn says, “you and Hotchity-Hotchman, what?” Shawn holds his fist out. Spencer’s pretty sure he’s seen people do this before, wherein the other person then raises their own fist to bump them together.

Spencer just looks at Shawn, smirking. “Hochity-Hotchman?

“What, you still don’t like it? Is it too much? I can tone it down a little more… how bout just HotchyHotch?”

“I don’t see why Lassiter keeps you.” Spencer says, but he’s smiling and he knows Shawn understands it to be a joke.

“Told you before, man. It’s cause of the ass.”

Hotch is finishing up and he nods his head towards Spencer, their cue to leave. Spencer turns to Shawn. “8705893146,” he says. Shawn just nods, and says, “It was cool to meet you. One day you’ll have to teach me that whole ‘eidetic memory’ trick.”

Spencer smiles and grabs his bag, leaving the station with the rest of his team. Before they’re even on the plane, Spencer receives a text. ‘When’s your birthday? I’ll send you a pineapple.’

…

The plane ride back is awkward, the entire team relatively quiet, but the tension between Hotch and himself makes Spencer chew his bottom lip while he pretends to reread The Fountainhead. Spencer is curled up in the corner of the sofa, Hotch in the chair facing the front of the room, everyone else in the back. He knows that everyone is aware that he’s not actually reading it, just flipping the pages idly ever thirty seconds or so.

He does his best to keep his eyes on the book, even if he’s letting his mind wander, but every once in a while he can’t help but let his gaze flick over to Hotch. They haven’t acknowledged anything, and Spencer is beginning to think Hotch regrets it.

The next time he glances up at Hotch, he sees Morgan give J.J. and Prentiss a look, plainly referencing Spencer. They’ve obviously noticed something, and he’s a little pissed off that they’re gossiping about him.

He glances back at Hotch and finds Hotch looking at him. He maintains the eye contact, watching as the tension in Hotch’s face lessens. Spencer gives him a small smile, knowing full well that the rest of the team is watching him. What they can’t see is the way the corner of Hotch’s mouth twitches up, giving him an almost smile in return.

Spencer’s chest tightens, and he holds Hotch's gaze for a moment before looking back down at his book, still smiling. He imagines that Morgan’s eyebrows are raised, and that he is having some sort of heated discussion with the girls by communicating only with facial expressions.

He’s surprised by how little he cares; Hotch had smiled back, and he spends the rest of the flight wondering exactly what that means. The next time he looks up and sees Morgan watching him, he raises his eyebrows and tightens his mouth, an expression that plainly tells Morgan to mind his own business.

…

They make it back late in the afternoon, and everyone stays around for while to get their paperwork done. Spencer goes back to his desk, moving papers around and trying to busy himself by reorganizing without glancing at Hotch’s office. Eventually he just gives up and makes his way over to it, knowing everyone in the bullpen is watching him. They must think of him and Hotch like they’re some kind of soap opera, thinking that Shawn is going to drive a wedge between a relationship that doesn’t even exist.

He enters without knocking, doesn’t close the door behind him. Instead he moves a step to the side, leaning back against the wall.

“I think we need to talk,” Hotch says.

Spencer doesn’t suppress the urge to roll his eyes. “Well,” he says, “I’m here. So.”

“In private, Reid,” Hotch says.

Spencer laughs, “Honestly, Hotch, I think the team knows more about what’s going on between us than we do.”

“How do you mean?”

“I think they figured out there was something between us before either of us did.”

Hotch presses his lips together, considering this for a minute. “Have they talked to you about it?”

“Not outright, but they’ve made some comments.” Hotch frowns at that, and Spencer hastily adds, “Not mean or bad or anything. Don’t, there’s no need to worry about it.”

Hotch sighs and looks up at Spencer, and Spencer knows that look; it’s the look of guilt a man gets right before he does something that they know is going to hurt someone. Spencer shrinks into himself, slouching is shoulders forward unconsciously.

“Spencer,” Hotch says, and his name said in that tone of voice makes Spencer cringe, curl into himself even more. “We really do need to talk about this.”

Spencer nods without lifting his head, still staring at the floor. “Aright,” he says softly, “when?”

Hotch looks at the paperwork on his desk and then at what he can see of the bullpen. “I won’t be finished here for a few more hours.”

“I can wait.”

“You don’t have to do that. Go home, get some rest.” At that Spencer looks up.

“What?” He asks. “I almost always stay until you go home.”

When he hears it out loud he’s dumbstruck by the words. He and Hotch stay late together all the time. And because of that he knows Hotch’s favorite Chinese take-out order, and knows his favorite of the three pictures of Jack he has on his desk. He knows the way Hotch moves his shoulders when he’s stressed out, the way he runs his hand over the base of his neck when he’s thinking about something not case-related.

He knows Hotch. He knows little things about him that the rest of the team doesn’t know. He thinks that it’s no wonder the team have been hinting at this; Spencer must look like some love-sick puppy following along after Hotch.

“I know,” Hotch says. When he looks at Spencer part of the tension in his expression lessens a little, but he’s still guarded and it throws Spencer off.

“I. Uh. I guess I’ll just go, then.”

Just before he’s out the door he hears Hotch’s voice, asking softly, “Spencer?”

Spencer has absolutely no idea what to think or do right now, and he feels like Hotch is just fucking with his emotions right now, but he glances over at anyway.

“It’s going to be okay, I just need to think,” Hotch says, smiling faintly. He still sees some confusion in Hotch’s expression, but he’s pretty sure his matches Hotch’s pretty well.

He gives a sad half-smile in return and heads back out to his desk in the bullpen. Honestly, he has no idea what Hotch just said. There was no clarification of what ‘it’ was, and he had no idea how define what constituted okay.

Morgan and Prentiss snap back to pretending to be reading whatever is in front of them as he walks out, and he sees J.J. openly watching him from her office. He tries to keep his posture straight and his face neutral, but it’s obviously not working because J.J. shares a look with Prentiss when he opens up the file on his desk.

He works quietly for the rest of the evening, silently running everything about his recent interactions with Hotch over and over, until it’s just him, Prentiss, and Hotch left in the office. When Prentiss starts to pack up and say her goodbye, Spencer grabs his things as well. She looks confused, but they take the elevator down together and say goodnight in the parking lot.

Spencer walks to the train station, trying not to think at all.

…

The next day Spencer is at his desk, preparing his statements for the Cambria trial. He and Emily had been at the scene when Cambria was arrested, and they’re driving out to West Virginia tomorrow. He sighs and is standing up to refill his coffee cup when his phone vibrates.

He flips it open to find a text message from Shawn: ‘So are you and HotchyHotch totally banging yet?’

Spencer smiles, even though he’s typing back, ‘Sadly, no.’ He’s pouring sugar into his coffee when his phone vibrates again.

‘Come on! You two were eye-ravishing each other all day yesterday.’

Spencer quirks an eyebrow, typing, ‘What exactly constitutes an eye-ravish? I’m not familiar with the term.’

He makes it back to his desk and through the first three pages of attorney’s notes before Shawn texts him back. ‘You know, smoldering I want to sex you up type looks.’

Spencer snorts. ‘I’ve never smoldered at anyone in my life.’

Shawn’s replies, ‘Au contraire, Spency, you smolder all over HotchityHotchner.’

Spencer makes a face and is about to reply when Prentiss speaks up. She’s sitting across from him, head tilted to the side, curious. “What’s up, Reid?”

Spencer just smiles and kind of waves his cell phone around, as if that explains it. “I’m being texted ridiculous lies.”

Prentiss smiles, but her eyebrows draw together and Spencer knows now she’s not going to give up until she gets all the info out of him. “Who’s texting you lies?”

Spencer shakes his head, says, “It’s just Shawn.” Prentiss makes a face that Spencer can’t read, and nods. Spencer’s phone vibrates again. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t smoldered all over each other yet,’ the text reads, and Spencer makes another face.

He quickly types, ‘That sounds disgusting,’ and sends it before turning back to Prentiss.

“What kind of lies is he texting you?” Prentiss asks.

“You don’t even want to know.” The way Prentiss’ eyebrows shoot up makes him immediately regret the choice of words. He knows that that’s going to spread through the office within ten minutes.

“Huh,” is all Prentiss says. Spencer nods and opens his phone again, finding, ‘Oh, I can think of a million things that are much more disgusting’ displayed on his screen.

‘Despite the statistical odds I actually believe you. I need to work, Shawn, and you need to stop imagining me and Hotch doing whatever it is you’re imagining us doing.’

Thirty seconds later his phone vibrates again, ‘Not gonna happen. Just know that I am busy thinking of you and Hotch as you work.’

‘I don’t think Lassiter would approve.’

‘Oh wouldn’t he? Have you ever heard of swinging?’

Spencer rolls his eyes and mutters, “Oh my god,” before he turns his phone on silent. He’s in the bullpen, everyone who needs him is in the building. Prentiss is still watching him out of the corner of her eye, but Spencer ignores her and goes back to work.

When J.J. comes in an hour later to distribute the paperwork the DA had sent over for them to review, Spencer takes a break. He flips his phone open to find five new texts.

‘I bet you’re imagining me and Lassi, now.’

‘So, what’s up? What are you doing? Have you had your morning smoothie yet?’

‘Spenceeey.’

‘Are you too busy smoldering on Hotch to answer?’

‘I’m going to pretend you’re so busy making out in the bathroom that you can’t answer. FYI, the background music is the hustle.’

Spencer smiles, types back, ‘I’m working, Shawn. Go find someone else to entertain you.’

When he looks up Prentiss is staring at him again. He figures by three p.m. the entire station is going to be wondering if he and Shawn are attempting some long-distance romance. He knows they’ve all been wondering about the distance between Hotch and himself this morning; how when Hotch walked past the bullpen he’d glanced at Spencer, a tight almost-smile crossing his face before he headed into his office.

He looks at Prentiss and raises his eyebrows, not surprised when she looks away, guiltily. He doesn’t know what’s going on between Hotch and himself, and Prentiss and the rest of the team can whisper all they want to, but he doesn’t want to hear it.

…

When Morgan gets back from consulting on a case for the white-collar crime unit, he heads to the break room. Prentiss immediately follows after him, and Spencer rolls his eyes. It’s gotten to the point where no one on the team is even trying to be discreet anymore.

He takes the opportunity to head to Hotch’s office, though, and he leans against the door frame, hoping he looks more relaxed than he feels.

“Aaron,” he says, and Hotch looks up, but when he sees Spencer his face relaxes. Spencer takes this as a good sign.

“Hey," Hotch says.

After a moment of silence Spencer says, “Well, you’re not kicking me out. I’m going to take that as a good sign.”

Hotch laughs quietly, “I’d ask you to come in and sit down, but that would probably…” Hotch’s face starts to close off, and Spencer kind of remembers that Hotch is his superior.

“It might seem a little too work related,” Spencer says, “but not because you’re my supervisor.” Hotch’s slight cringe tells him he hit on the mark. “It would just feel too much like it was a work related conversation.”

“Spencer,” Hotch says, and his tone is almost defeated. “I am your supervisor. We can’t… I can’t just ignore that.”

And for some reason Spencer isn’t scared, isn’t nervous. For once, he’s feeling confident, like he can say exactly what it is he wants. “I’m not saying we should ignore that,” Spencer says, “I don’t think it would compromise our work situation at all.”

“It would change the dimensions between us in all aspects.”

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t defer to you at work.”

“Spencer…” Hotch says, but his voice is softer, and he knows Hotch is thinking about letting it work.

The thought bolsters his confidence and Spencer says, quickly, “If we weren’t at work right now I would kiss you.”

Hotch looks surprised, but he responds, “That’s the kind of thing that I mean.”

“If you’d let me kiss you outside of work then I wouldn’t have to say it while I’m standing in the doorway to your office.”

Hotch sighs, but he’s giving in, Spencer can tell. “It feels like I’d be taking advantage of you, and I can’t afford to lose a member of this team because I’m thinking of myself.”

“I don’t think it’s taking advantage of me if I want you to do it.” Spencer blushes, finally, and he’s surprised he made it this long, but the thought of Hotch pressing him against the wall reminds of how much he does want it.

Hotch’s look turns heated, then, almost dazed like he’s remembering it, too. “I’m not sure what to do, here,” Hotch says, and he sounds genuinely confused. “I don’t…” Hotch pauses, then starts again. “I know what I want,” he says, and he looks Spencer in the eye when he says it, but then he looks away, toward the bullpen, and he says, “And I know what I should do.” Hotch licks his lips unconsciously, “And I don’t know what…”

“To do?” Spencer supplies. Hotch looks at him again, looking lost and a little sad. “You don’t have to know exactly what to do, Hotch.” Spencer laughs and gestures toward himself. “I mean, I’m not exactly the most… confident person in the world, and most of the time I find myself flustered and rambling and…”

Hotch smiles and Spencer realizes he is flustered and he is rambling. “I’m out of my element,” Spencer says, “I don’t know what statistics I can tell you about this, and I don’t know what’s going on, exactly, but I don’t need to.” Hotch is starting to look more relaxed, and Spencer feels accomplished that he’s been able to do this much without tripping himself up.

“It’s against the rules,” Hotch says.

“When have any of us ever followed the rules?” Spencer asks.

Hotch smiles, and Spencer feels some weight he didn’t know was there, some apprehension and anxiety, lifting off his chest. He studies the carpet, waiting for some response. There’s a minute of silence before Hotch says, “I do know what I want.”

Spencer jerks his head up, and Hotch meets his gaze evenly.

“Yeah?” Spencer breathes out, in some quiet semblance of a question.

“Yeah,” Hotch says. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Spencer frowns. “Last time you said that you talked yourself out of it.”

“I guess we’ll see if you can talk me back into it,” Hotch says.

Spencer knows he’s blushing when he says, “I meant it when I said I would kiss you right now.”

“I know,” Hotch says, and Spencer smiles as he pushes himself off the doorjamb and heads back into the bullpen. Spencer’s phone vibrates in his pocket at he turns around, and he flips it open to see another text from Shawn.

‘My psychic vibrations tell me that you and HotchyHotch were just sucking face in the broom closet.’

Spencer texts back, ‘I’m getting there.’ He’s smiling while he types it, and he knows that he’s confusing the hell out of his team right now, but he likes having this one-up on them.

He’s back at his desk, back to flipping through paperwork when he gets another text. This time it’s from Hotch. ‘Thai and paperwork tonight?”

Spencer is outright grinning now, and he knows that Prentiss has told everyone that he’s been texting Shawn all day. He loves the feeling of knowing it’s Hotch, of knowing Hotch might really want to do this. He also loves the feeling of knowing the ‘what the hell?’ looks his teammates are giving one another is because of him.

‘I’ll still be around,’ he types back.

He gets about two minutes of silence before he gets another text from Shawn. ‘The spirits are definitely doing the hustle. Except for one, he’s doing the YMCA.’

‘Give me a couple hours and we’ll see,’ Spencer types.

Prentiss is watching him so closely Spencer literally feels like the prey a hawk is hunting. He knows that the drive tomorrow is going to be hell; he can feel the several thousand questions she’s just waiting to ask.

Right now all he cares about is Hotch and Thai food and maybe a yes.


	4. Chapter 4

Once again, Morgan approaches him about the situation.

“Still talking to Shawn, huh?

Spencer just nods. He doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that no one besides Hotch and himself know about Shawn’s relationship with Lassiter.

“So, you two have something?” Spencer holds back his laugh at the statement, but still lets the grin slip through.

“We’re friends,” Spencer says, and he can see Morgan trying to make sense of it, obviously believing there was something more there.

“Okay,” Morgan says, still watching Spencer.

“You know how Shawn is,” Spencer says, before he realizes that Morgan doesn’t know, Morgan only saw the outlandish character-act-thing that Shawn puts on. He pushes a lock of hair behind his ear.

“He’s just been trying to distract me all day,” he says, and then inwardly cringes because that just adds fuel to the fire.

…  
When everyone is just about finished for the night Morgan looks over at Prentiss. “Drinks?” He asks, and Prentiss nods.

Morgan turns to him. “You in?”

“I-ah- I think I’ll pass.” He glances at Hotch’s office.

Morgan gives him a looks something like sympathy and says, “Come on, Reid. It’s been a long week.”

Spencer is about to decline when Garcia walks into the bullpen. “Did I hear correctly? We’re going for drinks?”

“You been spying on us, mama?” Morgan asks.

“You should know by now, I never share my secrets.”

Morgan laughs, and Prentiss says, “Yeah, we’re just trying to get Reid to come along.”

Garcia looks at Spencer, and he knows he’s not going to get out of this. “Of course Reid is going to come.” Even though she says it sweetly, Spencer can hear the unspoken threat.

“What about J.J.?” Morgan asks.

“I think she took off early today,” Prentiss says. “This is the first full night she and Will have had together in a while.”

“What about Hotch?” Garcia asks.

Spencer isn’t surprised when they all look at him. When none of them say anything, he snorts and says, as though he’s talking to someone particularly slow, “If you want to know what Hotch is doing, you should probably ask Hotch.”

Prentiss nods, bobbing her head. “I’ll uh, I’ll go ask him.”

Spencer ignores Morgan and Garcia’s conversation in favor of filling out the last few pages of the paperwork for tomorrow.

A few minutes later, she walks back to the bullpen, followed by Hotch. Her eyebrows are raised, like she’s surprised that Hotch has agreed to come.

Morgan raises his eyebrows, too, when Hotch looks at Spencer and Spencer kind of shrugs.

“Move ‘em out, troops!” Garcia says. Everyone always listens to Garcia.

…

They’re a few drinks in and Morgan has lead Garcia out to the dance floor. When Prentiss heads to the bar to get another pitcher, Hotch leans toward Spencer.

“Not exactly what I was thinking,” Hotch says.

“Me either,” Spencer says.

“I heard a rumor that you and Shawn are in a long distance relationship,” Hotch says.

Spencer smiles and just says, “Yeah. News travels really fast.”

“How does that effect my chances?” Hotch looks serious, even if his tone is somewhat playful.

“You, uh. You want odds on it?” He asks, and when Hotch nods he smiles. “I’d say they’re still pretty good.”

When Prentiss comes back to the table they lean away from each other, both smiling. Prentiss looks between the two of them and says, abruptly, “If I were to aggressively hit on you at the bar, would you find it weird?”

Hotch laughs and says, “As long as you didn’t come across as psychotic, I think you’d be fine.”

Spencer looks over he shoulder and sees a tall blond man leaning against the bar. He turns attention back to Prentiss, who is staring intently. “You look like you want to eat him.”

“Maybe I do,” Prentiss says. Spencer blushes.

“Try not to use that as your opening line,” Hotch says. After moment he amends, “Actually it might be a great opening line.” Prentiss grins.

When Garcia and Morgan return to the table, Prentiss goes after her prey. Spencer and Hotch take part in the conversation, something they all try to keep light. He can’t help glancing at Hotch every once in a while, and once or twice he catches Hotch looking back.

At one point his phone vibrates, and Shawn’s text says, ‘Should I fly out and molest you in an attempt to make him jealous? Cause I’ll do it.’

Spencer types back, ‘Since he knows you’re in a committed relationship with Lassiter, I don’t think he would buy it.’

‘Valid point. But I would get the opportunity to molest you.’

‘Please don’t.’

‘… you’re breaking my heart here :( ‘

Spencer knows that Garcia is watching him openly, and that Morgan is trying not to be as obvious about it, but that he’s watching as well. Hotch just raises an eyebrow, and Spencer flips back to the first message in which molestation is involved.

He leans in and hands Hotch the phone. Hotch flips through the texts and laughs quietly, looking up at Spencer. “He’s pretty adamant about it, maybe you should let him.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow, “And you’d be okay with that?”

Hotch’s smiles softens, “No,” he says.

Spencer smiles as he takes the phone back. He and Hotch are still leaning toward each other, and Spencer’s smile softens as he meets Hotch’s gaze. They both sit back up to find Garcia and Morgan are now blatantly watching them.

Hotch asks Morgan about his new girlfriend, and Morgan casts a quick look between Hotch and Spencer before he answers. After a while Spencer begins to tire, he stands up to say goodnight. Garcia and Morgan look at Hotch expectantly, and Hotch rolls his eyes.

He stands with Spencer, leans in close to say, “You were right, our team was on to us from the beginning,” quietly enough so no one else can hear him.

Spencer laughs and says, “They still think Shawn is some part of a torrid love triangle. It’s actually quite amusing.”

Hotch smiles and says, “If I let you leave here alone I’m going to hear thinly veiled comments about it all night.”

“So…do you want to have that talk?”

“Something like that.”

Hotch turns to Garcia and Morgan, saying his goodbyes and letting them know he was ‘going to drive Spencer home’ before he and Spencer head for the door.

Once they’re outside Spencer lets Hotch take the lead. Hotch can handle alcohol better than Spencer, and Spencer doesn’t really want to walk to the station and take the train home. They head toward Hotch’s SUV and before Spencer can move around to the passenger side Hotch grabs Spencer’s wrist and stops him. Spencer is standing close to Hotch, his eyes wide, trusting, and Hotch lifts his hand up, tucks a stray piece of Spencer’s hair behind his ear. Spencer swallows thickly but maintains eye contact, his heart racing.

And then Hotch smiles and leans in to kiss Spencer, gently. Spencer wants to be greedy with it, wants to press himself against Hotch and feel everything. This is new, though, and if Hotch wants to go slow then that’s what they’re going to do. Hotch swipes his tongue across Spencer’s bottom lip, and Spencer parts his lips a little, letting Hotch have whatever he wants.

After a minute Hotch pulls back, smiling at Spencer. “You could always come back with me,” he says, and Spencer tries to look neutral.

The thought of going home with Hotch is intoxicating, but Spencer doesn’t sleep with a person unless he’s in a relationship with him or her. He’s no virgin, but he likes to associate sex with positive emotions. “I… I-uh,” Spencer is flustered, trying to say the words in a way that won’t hurt Hotch.

Hotch smiles and says, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Spencer didn’t realize he was that easy to read, but he gets the feeling that Hotch thinks it’s his first time or something, and for some reason he feels compelled to change that perception. “I just… I don’t sleep with people when I’m not, you know, dating them.”

Hotch does look a little surprised, but not completely. It’s good to know that Hotch doesn’t think of him as the innocent virgin that Morgan and Prentiss did.

“You don’t have to worry about that, we can do whatever you want,” Hotch says, and he leans forward to catch Spencer’s lips again. Spencer slides one hand around Hotch’s back and lets the other curl into the Hotch’s shirt. They’re essentially making out in a parking lot, Spencer thinks, and he pulls away.

“Okay,” he says, and Hotch smiles.

…

When they make if back to Hotch’s apartment Spencer has just convinced himself into being awkward again, and when Hotch looks at him and laughs before he cuts the ignition, Spencer knows he makes a face somewhere between pouty and indignant.

“Spencer,” Hotch says, and he leans across the console to brush his lips against the corner of Spencer’s mouth before pulling back. Spencer feels the tension release, and he smiles at Hotch.

Spencer follows Hotch inside, still feeling sort of awkward, and he notices how bare the apartment seems. All the traditional furnishings, obviously having come from Hotch’s old house, and only a few scattered pictures, only a few dvds stacked beside the t.v. to make it personal.

Hotch puts his key’s down on the counter and then turns back to Spencer, and Spencer knows it’s an invitation and he steps forward, pushing Hotch back against the counter. Spencer calculates Hotch’s look a moment before he smiles, ducking his head down to kiss Hotch's jaw.

Hotch makes a noise, and when Spencer pulls his head back up Hotch slides one hand up behind Spencer’s neck and kisses him, keeping Spencer in close. Spencer makes a noise, something that might be a growl from anyone else, and Hotch shifts so that one of Spencer’s thighs is pressed between his own.

Spencer pushes closer, one hand rising and pulling lightly at the hair at the nape of Hotch’s neck. Hotch submits to Spencer’s tugging, letting his mouth pull away and leaving his neck exposed. Spencer bites gently at Hotch’s earlobe before he makes his way slowly down back to Hotch’s mouth.

He may have left a mark along that line, but he’s too busy with the feeling of Hotch’s hand sliding up inside the back of his shirt to care.

After a minute, though, Hotch pulls back completely and looks Spencer dead in the eye. “We really don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Spencer, it doesn’t matt-“

Spencer cuts him off by surging forward and catching Hotch’s mouth again, one hand moving up to unbutton Hotch’s shirt. He pulls away just enough for his mouth to be next to Hotch’s ear. “I’m comfortable with this; this I could do all night,” he says, and his voice is low.

He feels Hotch’s smile more than he sees it, and he moves back, leaving space between them so that Hotch can see his face. Hotch smiles, and asks, ”Could we continue this in the bedroom?” Before Spencer can respond, Hotch says, “Nothing you don’t want, just… this.”

Spencer laughs outright and Hotch looks confused and somewhat hurt. “Aaron,” he says, and it’s still weird to hear it out loud, “I said I wasn’t comfortable having sex with someone right away. Less worrying, more kissing.”

Hotch grins and pushes himself forward against Spencer, kissing him almost greedily, one hand lightly cupping Spencer’s neck, the other moving down rub one thumb along Spencer’s hip while his fingers dip just below the waistband of Spencer’s pants. Spencer smiles and nips at Hotch’s lower lip.

“I thought you said something about a bedroom,” Spencer says. Hotch smiles and grabs Spencer’s hand, twining their fingers as he leads Spencer down the hall.

…

The next morning Spencer wakes up half an hour before the alarm is set to ring, and he smiles when he notices that Hotch’s arm is draped over his chest and that Hotch is drooling slightly on his pillow.

Spencer sort of laughs at that, and the movement must rouse Hotch slightly, because he murmurs,  
“S’wachywan,” against the pillow. Spencer deciphers this to mean “so what you want.” He shifts his body closer to Hotch’s and whispers, “Just you,” into Hotch’s ear, before he lets himself drift back to sleep.

…

They head in early enough for Spencer to grab a fresh shirt out of his go bag, but they still have enough time to each take a shower and then manage to make out against the kitchen counter in Hotch’s apartment for a while before leaving.

When Spencer heads back out into the bullpen after changing, Morgan is already at his desk, getting ready for the day’s load of paperwork and revisions. When Morgan smiles at him, Spencer tries his best to look confused and smiles back. Morgan is trying to calculate something, trying figure out what happened, but Spencer isn’t going to make it easy for him.

Hotch takes this opportunity to step out of his office, a gesture meant to indicate that he and Spencer had arrived here separately, and he looks around as though he expects everyone to be here. It’s early still, and everyone will be in by nine, so Hotch just sighs and goes back into his office. He doesn’t look at Spencer, and Spencer just glances up at Hotch, as if curious as to why Hotch had come out.

…

Morgan and Prentiss openly watch him for the majority of the day. He goes about his usual routines, his eleven a.m. cup of coffee, an hour blatantly reading a few science fiction books rather than doing work. He spends a good half an hour debating Snorks vs. Smurfs with Shawn (‘Snorks could breathe underwater, Spencey’ Shawn texts; ‘what the hell was growing out of their heads? Spencer responds.)’

He only he sees Hotch two times all day, the first being when Hotch walks out to talk to J.J. and catches Spencer reading a science fiction book. Hotch says, “Back to work, Reid.” Spencer gives him the same sheepish smile he gives whenever he gets caught reading non-work related materials, and Hotch rolls his eyes.

The second time is when Morgan is exploiting of Spencer’s lack of paper-football skills. Hotch is approaching Morgan’s desk when Spencer overshoots. “Damn it.”

Hotch clears his throat and both Morgan and Spencer look up, attempting an air of innocence. “What with this being the U.S. Government and all, I’m sure there’s no work to be done,” Hotch says dryly.

“Would it change your opinion if you knew this was a memo the that Strauss sent down?” Spencer asks, holding up the paper that’s been folded into a triangle.

Hotch’s lip twitches, but he doesn’t smile. “Work,” he says. Spencer heads back to his desk.

They’re two harmless incidents, nothing out of the ordinary, but his team is watching him like he’s the star of some soap opera, expecting something dramatic to occur at any moment.

As everyone begins to leave for the night, Spencer hangs around. Hotch is still buried under a pile of paperwork. Prentiss leaves last, and she looks at Spencer expectantly. He just shrugs with a half-smile.

When she leaves he walks into Hotch’s office, sitting down across from him and grabbing a few files off the top. Hotch looks up and smiles. “I thought we had a ‘not at work’ rule?”

“I’m helping you with paperwork. This isn’t exactly a tawdry affair, here.” Spencer pauses, reading through the top sheet of the file. “Besides, I have the feeling you’d kill me if I tried to sweep everything off your desk and ravish you.”

Hotch laughs, “Ravish me?”

“You know what I meant.”

“I wouldn’t be too thrilled, no.”

“Would you rather I go?”

Hotch shakes his head. “No,” he says, “it wouldn’t be a late night at the office without the accompaniment of Spencer Reid.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, but he still blushes.

They order pizza and spend a few hours working, until there are only a few files left on Hotch’s desk.

Spencer clears his throat. “I, uh, I think I’m going to head out for the night.”

Hotch looks up at him, and Spencer knows he’s unsure of what to say. Spencer smiles and rocks  
forward onto the balls of his feet, hands in his pockets.

“Okay,” Hotch finally says. “I still have a few files,” he gestures at those still left on the desk.

Spencer smiles. “It’s okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hotch still looks confused, like he’s trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do. Spencer moves around the desk and stops at Hotch’s side. He guides Hotch’s head so it’s tilted up and toward him, and he leans down to brush his lips across Hotch’s. Hotch responds immediately, and he bites softly at Spencer’s lower lip, asking for entrance. When Spencer parts his lips Hotch’s tongue slides against his, and Hotch makes a breathy sort-of moan.

When Spencer pulls back Hotch looks at the files on his desk and then up at Spencer. “Want some company?” Hotch asks, and Spencer laughs.

“I’d love some.”

In the elevator Hotch threads his fingers with Spencer’s.

…

The next day he and Prentiss have to drive out to West Virginia to testify in the Cambria case, and it takes them well into the afternoon.

On the drive back, Prentiss starts trying to casually weave Hotch into the conversation, and Spencer keeps evading the questions, offering obscure and vague answers whenever she asks him something directly. After asking him about Hotch’s impression of Shawn for what feels like the fiftieth time, Spencer sighs over dramatically and says, “Emily, seriously.” She stops with the questions, and Spencer tips his forehead against the glass.

By the time they get back to the office it’s almost nine p.m. And only Rossi and Hotch are still there. Prentiss packs up her things to go, and Spencer lingers, taking longer to get his own things ready.

After Prentiss walks out, Rossi steps out of his office and smiles at Spencer. “So, you figure it out yet, kid?” Rossi asks.

Spencer tucks his hair behind his ear and sort-of smiles. “I think I’m getting there.”

Rossi laughs and looks around the empty bullpen before he heads back into his office. Spencer heads into Hotch’s office, smiling as he sees the completely stressed look on Hotch’s face. “Hey,” he says, “you need some help?”

Hotch looks at him and his expression belies the desperate ‘yes’ Spencer knows Hotch is holding back.

“I have it under control,” Hotch says.

Spencer smiles and takes a few files off the top of the pile anyway. He sits back in what he thinks of as ‘his’ chair and props his foot against Hotch’s desk.

They work in silence for a few minutes before Hotch asks, “How’d spending the day with Prentiss go?”

“It was long,” he says. “It turns out she’s very curious about what you think of Shawn, how often I stay late with you, what I think of Garcia and Kevin and the fraternization rules, what I think of you, what I think of Jack-”

Hotch stops him here, “What you think of Jack?” Spencer flushes lightly and looks at the floor. There’s a moment of silence before Hotch speaks again. “Long term,” he says.

Spencer nods and glances at Hotch again. “I believe that’s what she was going for, yeah.”

“What’d you say?” Hotch asks.

Spencer smiles. “I played the ‘Reid effect’ card.”

Hotch breathes a laugh and Spencer smiles. “We’re going to have to see if Jack can negate that,” Hotch says, and Spencer’s chest tightens. He looks at Hotch, who’s expression is unwavering, and grins.

“I can almost guarantee that he won’t,” he says. He grins as Hotch stands and comes around the desk to stand in front of him.

“Well, we’ll give it a shot, anyway,” Hotch says, and Spencer’s breath hitches as Hotch leans down to catch Spencer’s lips with his own. Hotch kisses him slowly, curling his hand around the nape of Spencer’s neck.

Spencer curls the fingers of his left hand around one of the belt loops on Hotch’s pants, his right hand coming to tug at Hotch’s tie, pulling him closer. Spencer whimpers and pulls away slightly, about to suggest they call it a night, when they hear the distinctive sound of someone clearing their throat.

Rossi is standing in the doorway. Spencer lets go of Hotch’s tie, and Hotch straightens up. Rossi is grinning, and Hotch and makes a vague ‘um’ noise.

“David,” Hotch says, as though it were any other somber greeting. It’s so absurd that Spencer barks out a laugh.

“You might want to make sure the door is at least closed, fellas,” Rossi says, and then he taps the door frame before walking away.

Hotch turns to look at Spencer. “That was…”

“Bad?” Spencer supplies, standing up. Hotch nods. “It could have been worse,” Spencer says, “it could have been Garcia.”

Hotch still looks tense, and Spencer knows that Hotch is going to be uptight and tense and worry about this anyway.

“Hey,” Spencer says, turning to face Hotch. “You can’t do anything about it now.” Hotch is frowning, and Spencer sighs, trying to think of the right thing to say to comfort him.

Rossi takes this time to poke his head around the corner again. “Don’t worry about it, Aaron. Your secret’s safe with me.” Rossi leaves again, calling, “See you tomorrow!” over his shoulder.

Spencer sighs. “You’re not going to get anything done here tonight, you’ll just be obsessing.” Hotch starts to shake his head, but Spencer rolls his eyes. “I know you, Aaron. You’re going to freak yourself out and blow this completely out of proportion.”

Spencer stops talking when Hotch raises his eyebrows. “You’re trying to tell me this isn’t a big deal?”

“Rossi isn’t going to say anything. Talk to him tomorrow, then decide if you need to freak out.”

Hotch’s lip quirks up in an almost smile, and Spencer knows he’s almost won. Spencer takes a gamble and leans in to kiss Hotch, and when Hotch doesn’t push him away immediately, Spencer smiles.

When he pulls back he says, “I bet I can keep your mind occupied for the rest of the night.” Hotch laughs quietly and Spencer says, “Or keep you from thinking at all.”

Hotch nods and Spencer goes to grab his bag before meeting up with Hotch at the elevator.

…

The next day Spencer is just hoping for things to go smoothly. The rest of the team straggle in later than he and Hotch, which is normal.

When he gets there, Morgan watches Spencer for a few minutes, trying to read him. Spencer just pulls out the paperwork from the last few cases, trying to figure out the best order in which to tackle them. When he drops his pen on the floor and reaches down to grab it, he sits back up to see Morgan’s smile, somewhat triumphant.

“What?,” Spencer asks, genuinely confused. Morgan just grins and shakes his head, remaining silent as they both do their work. When Prentiss walks in and heads straight for the coffee room, Morgan follows her. Spencer sighs, thinking that he’s been through this before and that the act is beginning to annoy him.

When Prentiss sits at her desk, she’s watching Spencer closely, her eyes trying to find something, a constant smile just barely held back. Spencer sighs and shuffles the last of the files to the front of his paperwork. He tilts his head to the right, skimming through the page when he hears Prentiss breathe in sharply.

When he looks up he sees Morgan and Prentiss share a grin, and Spencer is more confused than ever.

“What?” he asks. Morgan and Prentiss just smile.

Spencer stares at them, confused, until Morgan asks, “So, you have fun with Hotch last night?”

Spencer’s brows furrow. “Actually we got through most of the paperwork Strauss has been throwing Hotch’s way,” he lies.

“Alright, pretty boy,” Morgan says, and his grin stretches wider, if that’s even possible. Spencer looks to Prentiss for backup, but her smile matches Morgan’s.

Eventually he just sighs, looking straight at Morgan before he gets up and heads to Hotch’s office. He stands, propped against the doorway, and sighs dramatically. Hotch looks up and smiled.

“Hey,” Hotch says, “what’s up?”

Spencer sighs dramatically again, tilting his head back toward the bullpen. “Everyone’s been staring at me,” he says, and he knows that he sounds like a petulant child.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch says, but he’s still smiling. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

Spencer knows he’s being baited, and he groans slightly. “Nothing that would be appropriate at work,” he says. After a minute he tilts his head at Hotch and starts to ask if Hotch is okay when he realizes that Hotch is blushing, faintly.

“What?” He asks.

“You, uh, you have an…. Um. You have a hickey,” Hotch finally says.

“What? Where?” Spencer moves his hand around his neck, as though he’ll be able to feel the bruised skin.

Hotch stands up and comes closer. “Tilt your head again,” he says. Spencer obliges, and Hotch reaches out with two fingers, pressing them to the spot where his left collarbone and his neck meet. Spencer blushes, because he knows that mark is at least partially the result of a bite.

“You can’t see it unless you, uh, tilt your head,” Hotch says, and his voice is strained, and Spencer thinks Hotch must remember how he got it, too.

Hotch lets his hand fall away, and Spencer places his own fingers over the mark. “Oops,” he says. He pauses before he adds, “Maybe I’ll tell them Lila Archer is in town,” Spencer says, just to see the way that Hotch’s brows furrow.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Hotch says, and Spencer grins. He moves his hand off the mark and straightens his collar.

“Don’t worry, they already think it was you.”

“Really that should be cause for me to worry more,” Hotch says, frowning.

“They’re nosy, they would’ve figured it out eventually.”

“Go back to work, Spencer.”

“Yes, sir,” Spencer says, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to Hotch’s cheek. He’s grinning as he walks away.

…

Spencer confirms that the rest of the team know when Garcia calls Morgan, Prenitss, and J.J. Into her office. There are a few loud noises, one of which sounds like a squeal.

When he approaches, J.J. notices him and says something which causes the room to quiet down. When he sees the monitors, he realizes why. On the screen there’s footage from one of the cameras that provides an obscured view into Hotch’s office. Though it’s not completely clear, it’s the outline of Spencer pressed against the wall with Hotch pushed forward against him. It’s not conclusive evidence, but he still makes a little helpless noise anyway.

Garcia turns to him and grins, “Oh, it only gets better, sugar.” She clicks a button and the image changes to a view in the parking garage, where it’s visible that he and Hotch get in Hotch’s car and then proceed to make out in the front seat. This time you can definitely tell that it’s him and Hotch, but thankfully the tint of the window they’re still slightly obscured.

He must make another noise, because Garcia turns that grin on him again. “This one’s my favorite,” she says, and the image turns to the elevator feed. It’s a video of Hotch and himself entering the elevator, the time stamp just before midnight. On the video Hotch reaches out and twines his fingers with Spencer, pulling him close and kissing him chastely. On the video Spencer pulls back with a soft smile.

When Prentiss makes an ‘awww’ noise, he realizes he’s smiling that same smile right now. Everyone is looking at him, and he clears his throat.

“You, uh. You probably shouldn’t let Hotch see these.”

“Don’t you want to see the rest?” Garcia asks.

“There are more?” He asks, and his voice raises slightly at the end of the question. Garcia nods and moves her hand back toward the keyboard.

“No! No, uh… you should get rid of them,” he says.

“If you don’t want me to have them you should stop making out in front of cameras,” Garcia says.

Spencer blushes and says, “Just don’t let Hotch know, okay?” And he glances at everyone in the room, feeling mortified, before he walks away.

…

When he sees Hotch later, he makes sure they’re far enough away from the door that they won’t be seen by any cameras and he says, very quietly, that there may be some surveillance cameras that may have recorded some footage of them doing some stuff, and that they should probably be more careful of following the ‘nothing at work’ rule.

Surprisingly, Hotch just nods like he was expecting this. They’re still in his office, but despite the warning Hotch steps closer to Spencer and kisses him briefly. “No more in the office,” he says, “you’re right.” Spencer smiles, confused, and Hotch continues. “They would’ve figured it out eventually. This just means we’ll have less late nights around the office, and more late nights in bed.”

Spencer laughs and places his hand over Hotch’s heart. “I can handle that.”

Standing in Hotch’s office, with the rest of the team probably watching footage of Hotch and Spencer making out, Spencer has never been happier. And when Hotch smiles back at him, covering Spencer’s hand with his own and with something between affection and desire in his eyes, Spencer thinks that this just might be it. For one time in Spencer Reid’s life, things are going his way.


End file.
